859  B 


THE 
RED    TAVERN 


Hast  thou  peace  and  provender  for  a  wayfaring  knight  ? ' 

[Page 


THE 

RED  TAVERN 


BY 


C.  R.  MACAULEY 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

D.  APPLETON  AND   COMPANY 

1914 


COPYRIGHT,  1014,  BY 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


CONTENTS 


PROLOGUE    1 

I.     A  WARRANT    UPON    DOUGLAS 18 

II.     ON  THE  WAY  TO  CASTLE  YEWE     ....  32 

III.  OF  A  NIGHT  IN  THE  RED  TAVERN     ...  44 

IV.  THE  INCIDENT  OF  THE  WOLF-HOUND  ...  59 
V.     THE    INCIDENT    OF   THE   CUTTING   OF   SAF- 
FRON   VELVET 81 

VI.     THE  PAVILION  OF  PURPLE  AND  BLACK     .     .  94 

VII.     OF  THE  AWAKENING  OF  SIR   RICHARD  .     .  104 

VIII.     OF  A  QUARREL  AND  A  CHALLENGE     .     .     .  117 

IX.     OF  AN  AMBUSCADE,  A  DUEL,  AND  AN  ESCAPE  133 

X.     OF  A  NIGHT  IN  A  SHEPHERD'S  HUT,  AND  A 

SURPRISE  IN  THE  MORNING 147 

XI.     OF    How    SIR    RICHARD    CAME    TO    CASTLE 

YEWE 165 

XII.     OF  THE  DELIVERY  OF  THE  KING'S  WARRANT  187 

XIII.     OF  THE  INCIDENT  OF  THE  COBBLER'S  FEAST  205 
XIV.     OF  A  SERIES   OF  REMARKABLE   DUELS,  AND 

DE  CLAVERLOK'S  PERIL 217 

XV.     OF  THE  GALLERY  OF  THE  GRIFFIN'S  HEADS  229 
XVI.     OF    THE    RETURN   OF   LORD   DOUGLAS,   AND 

THE    COUNCIL   OF   JACKDAWS      ....  250 
XVII.     OF   A    JOUST   WITH   BULL    BENGOUGH,   AND 
THE     INCIDENT     OF     THE     KNIGHT     IN 

BLACK 267 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER      •  PAGE 

XVIII.     OF    SIR    RICHARD'S    MEETING    WITH    THE 
FOOT-BOYS,    AND    His    RETURN    TO    THE 

RED  TAVERN 285 

XIX.     OF  THE  RESCUE  OF  THE  MAIDEN  ....     300 
XX.     OF  How  SIR  RICHARD  CAME  TO  THE  SHEP- 
HERD'S    HUT,     AND     THE     RETURN     OF 

TYRRELL 320 

XXI.     OF  How  SIR  RICHARD  LISTENED  TO  A  STORY 

IN  THE   FOREST 335 

XXII.     OF  How  ONCE  MORE  THE  YOUNG  KNIGHT 

JOURNEYED  SOUTHWARD 343 

XXIII.     OF  A  VISION  IN  THE  FOREST  OF  LAMMER- 

MUIR 358 

XXIV.     OF  How  SIR  RICHARD  PLAYED  THE  KING  IN 

His  LITTLE  KINGDOM 369 

XXV.     OF  THE  END  OF  THE  RED  TAVERN  AND  ITS 

FITTING  EPITAPH 382 

XXVI.     OF  How  A  FLEDGLING  DROPPED  FROM  THE 

CONSPIRATOR'S  NEST 397 


THE   RED  TAVERN 

PROLOGUE 

S-S-ST,  there,  good  gossip,  wake  up,  I  pray 
thee!  Hearest  thou  not  voices  yonder  in 
our  lordship's  tent?  Methinks  I  can  see 
between  the  trees  the  glimmer  of  his  council- 
candle.  Even  now  he  doth  plan  the  attack,  whilst 
this  cursed  cross-bow  is  playing  the  very  devil 
of  a  traitor !  The  stubborn  latch  balks  at  speed- 
ing the  string.  Come — come,  wake  thee,  Jock! 
Spare  me  thy  deft  hand  to  its  mending,  or  the 
first  peep  o'  day  will  discover  me  impotent  to  fly 
a  bolt  against  our  crook-back  enemy  beyond  the 
brook." 

"Crook-back  cross-bow — i'  th'  s-s-string " 

muttered  the  one  addressed  with  drowsy  incoher- 
ence. 

"I  tell  thee,  Jock,  wake  up!"  the  first  speaker 
persisted.  "Listen,  I  say!  Dost  hear  the  hum 
of  voices  in  brave  Richmond's  tent?  Fix  me 

1 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

this  damned  cross-bow!    Eftsoons  it  will  come 
day  dawn,  man!" 

"Daydawn,  sayst  thou?"  returned  the  other, 
starting  into  broad  wakefulness  and  arising  to  a 
sitting  posture.  "Why,  Dickon,  thou  canst 
scarce  glimpse  thy  five  fingers  before  thine  eyes ; 
and  the  stars  shine  as  merrily  in  the  vault  as  ever 
they  did  yestereve.  What's  the  noise  i'  the 
wood?"  he  added,  sinking  sleepily  back  upon  his 
bent  elbow. 

'Tis  the  sound  of  the  rolling  wheels  of  the 
crakys  of  war.  Mark  how  the  blazing  links  of 
those  who  attend  upon  them  weave  fantastic 
shadows  amidst  the  trees.  There!  the  cross-bow 
hath  repented  of  its  waywardness  and  mended  it- 
self. 'Tis  said  of  these  shooting-cylinders  in  yon 
wood  that  they  can  hurl  a  leaden  slug  of  two 
score  times  the  weight  of  a  caliver  billet." 

"Marry,  Dickon,"  the  other  said,  "and  that 
be  not  the  least  part  of  the  weight  of  my  nether 
stocks  from  lying  knee-deep  in  this  foul  morass, 
thou  mayst  dub  me  a  shove-groat  sword  and 
buckler  man.  Where  thinkest  thou,"  he  added, 
"that  King  Richard  hath  gathered  his  forces?" 

"I'll  lay  thee  a  round  wager,  friend  Belwiggar, 

2 


PROLOGUE 

that  the  morning  light  will  find  him  across  the 
brook,"  replied  Dickon,  disposing  his  huge  body 
for  further  rest  upon  the  top  of  his  cross-bow. 

"I  would  it  were  not  so,"  observed  Belwiggar, 
yawning.  "For  here  are  we  with  our  bonnetful 
of  men  at  the  very  tail  of  the  triangle.  'Twill 
be  fight  or  die,  comrade,  and  tyrant  Richard 
deal  with  the  hindermost."  Whereupon  the 
speaker  clambered  to  a  higher  point  of  ground 
and  prepared  to  resume  his  interrupted  sleep. 

Scenes  and  dialogues  similar  to  the  one  here 
presented  were  being  enacted  in  every  corner  of 
the  field.  Especially  did  a  spirit  of  disquiet  and 
apprehensive  concern  pervade  that  part  of  it  so 
aptly  termed  by  Belwiggar  "the  tail  of  the  tri- 
angle." All  along  the  borders  of  the  morass,  the 
banks  of  the  creek,  and  within  the  dense  forest 
were  to  be  heard  anxious  whisperings,  mingled 
plentifully  with  muttered  oaths  and  threats  of 
dire  vengeance  against  a  bitterly  hated  monarch ; 
and  despite  the  earliness  of  the  hour,  within  the 
leader's  tent  the  activities  of  a  day  destined  to 
be  so  heavily  fraught  with  historical  significance 
had  already  been  inaugurated. 

The  interior  of  this  pavilion  was  of  a  consider- 

3 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

able  amplitude ;  and,  in  keeping  with  the  manner 
of  the  period,  was  fitted  out  with  every  necessary, 
together  with  not  a  few  of  the  luxuries,  of  the 
toilet  of  a  prince  of  the  royal  house.  Beside  the 
couch  with  its  silken  covers  and  damask  canopies, 
whereupon  the  Earl  of  Richmond  was  reclining, 
was  a  massive,  carven  table.  Upon  it  stood  a 
richly  chased  silver  tankard  bearing  a  profusion 
of  crimson  roses.  Within  their  center,  singularly 
enough,  a  pure  white  flower  reared  its  beautiful 
head,  the  which  served  admirably  to  enhance  the 
royal  splendor  of  its  compeers. 

Round  about  the  plush-carpeted  floor  were 
seated  John  de  Vere,  Earl  of  Oxford,  Henry's 
chief  of  archery ;  Sir  James  Blunt,  sometime  cap- 
tain of  the  Castle  of  Hammes,  in  Picardy  (the 
same  who  had  connived  at  Oxford's  escape  from 
that  fortress) ;  Sir  Walter  Herbert,  and  Sir  Rich- 
ard Rohan,  Richmond's  boyhood  companion, 
squire,  and  chief  of  horse.  All  were  armed  at 
proof  and  full  accoutered  for  the  coming  battle. 

The  last  named,  though  but  a  youth  of  nine- 
teen years,  would  without  doubt  have  arrested  at- 
tention above  any  in  the  distinguished  party. 
The  red  crest  of  his  helmet  nodded  quite  two 

4 


PROLOGUE 

inches  above  that  of  his  tallest  compatriot;  his 
features  were  uncommonly  trim  and  perfect  in 
the  ensemble;  and  his  every  gesture  abounded  in 
that  intuitive  and  careless  grace  appertaining  to 
exuberant  health  and  spirits  and  a  well  disciplined 
physical  strength.  As  though  to  complete  a  pic- 
ture already  approaching  perfection,  from  be- 
neath the  rim  of  his  head-piece  a  lock  of  hair  had 
escaped  and  shone  golden  in  the  mellow  light  of 
the  wax  tapers  guttering  in  silver  sconces  above 
his  plume. 

"Knowest  thou  not,  Sir  Richard,"  said  Henry, 
bending  above  the  roses  and  inhaling  their  re- 
freshing fragrance,  "who  sped  to  us  these  grace- 
ful messengers?" 

"I  beseech  thee,  your  grace,"  warned  Oxford, 
"to  observe  some  measure  of  caution  when  breath- 
ing in  their  odors.  'Tis  not  impossible  that  a 
deadly  poison  is  lurking  within  their  fair  petals. 
It  sits  plain  upon  my  memory  how  poor  Bur- 
gondy  expired  after  the  smelling  of  a  nose- 

gay." 

"For  the  matter  of  that,"  spoke  up  the  fair 
young  knight,  "had  they  been  laden  with  a  secret 
poison  I  had  not  lived  to  bear  them  within  my 

5 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

lord's  pavilion;  for  I  sniffed  of  them  a  score  of 
times  whilst  riding  hither." 

"Then,  certes,  we  are  double  safe,"  laughed 
Henry,  "for  their  sweet  perfume,  Sir  Richard, 
hath  filtered  to  our  nostrils  through  thy  good 
body.  But  what  like,  say  you,  was  the  messenger 
by  whom  they  were  bestowed?" 

"It  ill  beseems  me  to  say  that  I  know  not,"  the 
young  knight  replied,  "but  such  is  the  truth,  my 
lord.  I  had  but  finished  relieving  the  guard  at 
the  further  side  of  the  wood  when  I  heard  a  sound 
as  of  galloping  hoofs  along  the  road  from 
Market  Bos  worth  way.  Approaching,  the  rider 
halted  his  steed  where  no  ray  of  light  from  our 
blazing  links  could  reach  to  raise  the  veil  of  his 
identity.  Then,  calling  my  name,  he  laid  the 
flowers  within  my  arms.  'For  Henry,  our  noble 
liege,'  he  quickly  whispered,  and  rattled  off  down 
the  highroad  ere  I  could  return  word  of  thanks." 

"Saw  you  no  cognizance  upon  his  sleeve  or 
upon  the  trappings  of  his  horse?"  queried  Blunt. 

"Methought  there  was  a  rayed  sun  emblazoned 
on  his  arm,"  the  young  knight  answered. 
"Though,  in  truth,  my  lord,  'twas  all  done  so 
quickly  I  may  not  swear  'twas  surely  so." 

6 


PROLOGUE 

"A  Yorkist  gift,  by  the  rood!  Marry,  and 
this  be  true,  my  friends,  it  is  a  good  omen  in- 
deed," observed  the  Earl  of  Oxford,  rising  and 
going  to  the  table.  For  quite  a  space  he  leaned 
above  it,  gazing  fixedly  upon  the  flowers,  as 
though  in  the  hope  that  they  themselves  might 
unravel  the  mystery  their  presence  had  aroused. 
"But  this,"  he  added  presently,  indicating  the 
solitary  white  bloom,  "doth  sore  defeat  my  under- 
standing. Wherefore,  prithee,  mingle  the  white 
with  the  red?" 

"Methinks  I  have  the  solution  of  that  enigma," 
spoke  up  Herbert,  whose  form  was  merged  in 
shadow,  and  who,  until  then,  had  taken  no  part 
in  the  discourse.  "I  would  crave  his  lordship's 
indulgence,  however,  before  adventuring  my 
lame  conjecture." 

"Surely  we  would  have  thy  answer  to  the  rid- 
dle, Sir  Walter,"  said  Henry,  yawning  sleepily. 
"My  mind  doth  refuse  to  probe  its  baffling 
depths." 

"An  I  mistake  me  not,"  Herbert  resumed, 
"my  lord  of  Oxford  in  the  very  profession  of 
his  perplexity  hath  reached  a  good  half  way  to 
the  answer.  Methinks  'tis  meant  to  typify  the 

7 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

peaceful  mingling  of  the  white  rose  with  the 
red." 

"Why — body  o'  God,  I  see  it  now!"  Henry 
exclaimed.  "But  first,  by  force  of  arms,  the  red 
must  overwhelm  the  white." 

"Nay — not  so,  and  your  lordship,  please,"  in- 
terjected Blunt.  "But  rather,  let  us  hope,  a  min- 
gling through  the  milder  expedient  of  marriage." 

"Ah!  Princess  Elizabeth!"  cried  Henry,  as- 
suming a  sitting  posture  upon  the  edge  of  his 
couch.  "Sir  Walter,  thou  hast  given  us  a  fair 
answer  and  earned  a  guerdon  for  thy  keen  wit. 
But  enough  of  soft  speech,  my  noble  knights. 
And  now,  sirs,  to  the  sterner  business  of  the  day ! 
My  Lord  of  Oxford,  where  say'st  thou  camp 
Stanley's  forces?" 

"At  a  point  equally  distant  from  thine,  most 
gracious  liege,  and  those  of  the  infamous  Rich- 
ard. He  desires  thee  to  understand  that  his  be- 
loved son's  head  hangs  upon  his  dissembling 
devotion  for  yet  a  few  hours  to  the  murderous 
hunchback's  cause." 

"Aye — I  know.  We  may  depend  upon  him 
and  his  three  thousand  horse,  think  you?" 

"With  absolute  certainty,  my  lord." 

8 


PROLOGUE 

'Tis  well,"  observed  Henry,  laying  aside  his 
feathered  cap  and  stooping  to  allow  his  young 
squire  to  adjust  a  steel  helmet  to  his  shoulder- 
guards.  "Then  do  thou,  my  lord  of  Oxford," 
he  resumed,  "have  thy  archers  well  in  hand  and 
ready  against  the  first  show  of  dawn.  The  sun, 
standing  in  our  enemy's  eyes,  should  much  con- 
fuse their  aim.  Bend  thy  every  energy  toward 
staying  their  advance  with  a  cloud  of  well  di- 
rected bolts.  My  good  Captain  Blunt,  let  our 
basilisks  in  the  wood  fling  their  leaden  hail  above 
the  heads  of  our  kneeling  archers.  Sir  Walter 
Herbert,  let  thy  mounted  troop  to  the  right  and 
left  be  ready  for  the  final  charge.  And  you,  Sir 
Richard,  faithful  friend,  bear  upon  my  right 
hand  till  the  battle's  done.  Do  thou  each,  noble 
gentlemen,  take  one  of  these  roses  and  entwine 
it  with  thy  helmet's  crest.  What,  ho,  guards! 
strip  me  this  tent  and  bestow  it  with  the  camp 
litter  behind  the  wood.  Now,  thy  brave  hands, 
noble  sirs ;  and  God  smile  upon  our  cause." 

Into  the  dense  vapors  arising  from  the  morass, 
which,  in  the  gray  light  of  daybreak,  were  rapid- 
ly changing  to  a  pearly  mist,  the  leaders  then  dis- 
persed upon  their  several  missions. 

9 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

The  droning  of  subdued  conversation,  the 
clanking  of  swords  and  steel  gear,  the  twanging 
of  bow-strings  undergoing  preliminary  trial,  and 
the  tinkling  of  pewter  flagons  discharging  their 
liquid  cheer  into  parched  throats  could  be  heard 
over  all  the  field.  Each  armed  host  was  alert  and 
ready,  awaiting  with  tense  drawn  nerves  the  flam- 
ing signal  in  the  eastern  sky. 

From  afar  off  a  cock  crowed  a  cheery  welcome 
to  approaching  day. 

"I  would  the  blessed  light  would  discover  me 
an  eye-hole  across  the  brook,"  one  of  the  burly 
archers  was  saying.  "I'd  flick  me  a  bolt  into  its 
yawning  center  for  God  and  a  better  king." 

"Yea — truly.  And  any  king,  my  friend, 
would  be  a  better  king,"  another  answered.  "I 
would  I  could  but  fasten  my  aim  upon  the  elfish- 
marked  monster  himself.  'T would  be  a  mark 
worth  finding,  i'  faith." 

"My  lord  of  Oxford  is  a  brave  and  clever  cap- 
tain, lad.  Were  it  not  for  these  leather  guards 
our  bow-strings  would  have  been  no  whit  more 
useful  than  frayed  rope's  ends  with  this  cursed 
damp.  As  'tis,  they're  fit  to  send  a  quiverful  of 

white-hot  billets  into  as  many  traitorous  gizzards. 

10 


PROLOGUE 

I,  too,  would  that  one  of  them  might  make  its 
home  within  the  green  midric  of  Richard  him- 
self." 

"Hast  heard  the  latest  from  the  hunchback's 
camp?"  another  whispered. 

"Nay.    What  is  't?" 

"  'Tis  said  by  the  outposts  along  the  slough 
that  there  were  heard  wild  shriekings  in  King 
Richard's  tent  during  the  night." 

"Ah!  the  foul  fiends  bidding  him  to  their  black 
abode.  Mark  you,  Jock,  once  he  gets  there  he'll 
have  the  whole  dismal  brood  hanged,  drawn,  and 
quartered  before  the  year's  end." 

'T would  be  his   first  gracious  deed  then,  I 
give  thee  warrant." 

From  an  opposite  point  of  the  compass  a  sec- 
ond cock  crowed;  and  then  another  and  another. 
The  day  at  last  was  dawning;  the  mist  lift- 
ing, dispersing.  Slowly  it  thinned  away,  as 
though  one  after  another  of  a  myriad  of  gauzy 
curtains  was  being  raised  from  between  the  op- 
posing armies. 

When  eyes  could  penetrate  from  line  to  line 
hostilities  began.  A  pallid,  ghost-like  form,  gro- 
tesquely exaggerated,  would  emerge  from  the 

11 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

fog.  Then  would  be  heard  a  sharp  cry,  a  groan, 
a  horrible  rattling  in  an  expiring  throat,  a  fling- 
ing aloft  of  a  pair  of  arms,  and  a  sinking  of  the 
spectral  figure  into  the  black  mire  above  which  it 
seemed  to  have  been  floating. 

These  emerging  shadows  multiplied  from  one 
into  a  score;  from  a  score  into  a  hundred;  from 
a  hundred  into  a  thousand.  There  was  no  crash 
of  sudden  onset  and  meeting.  Rather  there  was 
that  which  resembled  a  gentle  crescendo  of  death. 
A  blending  together  of  two  armed  forces  with 
the  melting  of  the  fog.  It  was  as  though  a 
peaceful  entity  had  gently  risen  to  yield  place  to 
a  warlike  one. 

By  now,  the  din  and  crash  were  become  inces- 
sant. Wading  hip  deep  in  the  reddening  waters 
of  the  brook  and  in  the  crimsoning  black  mire  of 
the  morass,  the  men  of  the  opposed  armies  met 
and  battled,  hand  to  hand. 

From  the  wood  belched  flashes  of  fire.  Heavy 
smoke  clouds  rolled  away  among  the  leaves.  The 
thunder  of  primitive  artillery  reverberated  across 
the  meadow,  mingling  its  sound  of  a  new  kind  of 
warfare  with  that  of  the  decadent. 

Wherever  a  crescendo  occurs,  a  diminuendo  is 
12 


PROLOGUE 

commonly  indicated.  The  augmenting  of  Rich- 
mond's desperately  battling  forces  by  those  of 
Stanley  marked  the  climax  of  the  crescendo.  The 
downfall  of  Richard  the  Third  before  the  sturdy 
lance  of  Richmond,  the  beginning  of  the  diminu- 
endo ;  the  fitting  finale  to  the  whole. 

Wild  of  eye,  disheveled,  his  charger  struck 
away  from  beneath  him,  King  Richard  faced  his 
mortal  foe.  Dauntless  to  the  last  gasping  breath, 
he  made  one  frenzied,  vain  effort  to  rally  his  scat- 
tering army. 

"A  horse!  a  horse!  My  kingdom  for  a  horse!" 
he  shrieked  aloud;  and  then,  dying,  pitched  for- 
ward into  the  dust. 

The  Battle  of  Bosworth  Field  was  with  the 
history  of  things  past. 

"His  kingdom  for  a  horse,  quotha!"  shouted 
Stanley.  "His  kingdom?  Bah!  What  is  his 
kingdom  now,  honest  gentles?"  he  added,  leaping 
from  his  blood-slavered  stallion  and  contemptu- 
ously spurning  with  his  steel-booted  foot  the  piti- 
ful remains  of  the  dead  monarch.  "What  is  his 
kingdom  now?"  Sir  William  repeated,  looking  in- 
quiringly about  him.  "Why,  somewhat  above 
three  cubits  of  unwashed  dirt.  A  full  cubit  less, 

13 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

by  the  rood,  than  any  man  of  us  here  shall  in- 
herit." 

"Body  o'  God!  an  he  had  him  a  barb  now,  my 
lord  of  Stanley,  whither,  thinkest  thou,  would  he 
be  riding?"  shouted  someone  out  of  the  circle  of 
mailed  warriors  that  was  exultingly  closing  in 
around  the  limp,  misshapen  figure  huddled  upon 
the  ground. 

"Whither  else  but  to  the  foul  fiend!"  returned 
Stanley,  smiling  grimly  up  into  the  speaker's 
face.  :  'Tis  an  easy  riddle  thou  hast  set  me, 
a'Beckitt.  But  he'll  need  him  no  barb  to  fleet 
him  his  black  soul  into  the  burning  lake,  I'm 
thinking." 

"An  Crookback  sink  not  a  treacherous  dagger 
within  the  back  of  old  Charon  before  he's  ferried 
him  across  the  Styx,  I  am  wide  of  my  guess," 
interrupted  a  third. 

"Or  strike  off  and  pole  the  three  heads  of  Cer- 
berus when  he  does  get  over,"  suggested  another. 

"Look  you  yonder  at  the  redoubtable  Chey- 
ney,"  again  spoke  Stanley,  pointing  toward  a  gi- 
gantic body,  sprawled  limply,  face  downward, 
over  the  top  of  a  tangled  clump  of  copsewood. 
"Him,  good  gentles,  I  saw  totter  and  go  down 

14 


PROLOGUE 

before  this  lump  of  bent  clay  like  unto  a  light- 
ning-riven oak.  I'  faith,  much  doth  it  marvel  me 
at  the  furious  strength  that  kept  its  abode  within 
this  crooked  carcase." 

Upon  an  ebon-black  stallion,  and  apart  from 
the  men  hovering,  vulturelike,  above  Richard's 
body,  sat  the  Earl  of  Richmond,  the  fortunate 
young  leader  beneath  whose  lance  the  tyrant  king 
had  fallen.  By  reason  of  a  natural  eminence  of 
heaped  earth  and  stone  he  was  raised  well  above 
the  field,  the  whole  of  which  he  could  command  by 
a  simple  turning  of  his  head  to  right  and  left. 
Behind  him  the  deep  shadows  of  Sutton  Ambien 
Wood  served  picturesquely  to  emphasize  the  flash 
and  glitter  of  the  plated  and  richly  inlaid  armor 
that  girded  him  from  head  to  toe. 

It  was  then  but  a  brief  fortnight  and  a  day 
since  the  ship  in  which  he  had  embarked  at  Bre- 
tagne  had  brought  him  careening  through  Bristol 
Channel  to  a  safe  landing  upon  England's  coast 
at  Milford  Haven.  In  that  short  time  he  had 
succeeded  in  setting  a  period  to  the  devastating 
Wars  of  the  Roses,  and  in  exchanging  his  earl's 
coronet  for  that  which  fortune  subsequently  de- 
cided should  be  a  crown. 

15 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

The  lifeless  body  stretched  before  him  in  the 
hollow  marked  the  pitiful  end  of  nearly  a  century 
of  deadly,  internecine  strife.  Intently  he  watched 
them  denuding  the  stiffening  corpse  of  its  costly 
armor  and  kingly  vestments. 

During  these  moments  that  England  was  with- 
out a  legal  monarch,  Henry  Tudor,  Earl  of  Rich- 
mond, remained  motionless  as  a  statue  upon  his 
black  steed,  solitary,  unheralded,  forgotten. 

"Body  o'  God,  men!  we'll  give  him  a  horse,"  he 
heard  them  wildly  shouting ;  and  then  impassively 
regarded  them  while  they  lashed  the  bent,  and 
now  naked  body  upon  the  broad  back  of  a  lively 
hackney.  It  was  the  final  and  brutal  expression 
of  a  righteous  indignation. 

From  every  part  of  the  field  there  rang  in 
Henry's  ears  loud  cries  of  exultation  over  the 
dead  and  vanquished  Richard,  which  merged 
presently  into  a  riotous  pandemonium  of  inar- 
ticulate sound  when  the  horse,  bearing  its  grue- 
some burden,  was  paraded  before  the  men  in  the 
direction  of  Market  Bosworth  Road. 

"Le  roi  est  mort, — vive  le  rcnl"  the  clear  voice 
of  Henry's  squire  made  itself  manifest  above  the 
din. 

16 


PROLOGUE 

Something  the  faintest  of  smiles  broke  upon 
the  impassivity  of  the  Earl's  countenance  as  he 
turned  his  head  in  the  direction  whence  this  cry 
had  come.  Sir  Richard,  bearing  a  jeweled  crown 
outstretched  in  his  hands,  was  just  leaping  above 
the  clump  of  copse-wood  whereupon  the  body  of 
Sir  John  Cheyney  was  lying. 

Lord  Stanley,  who,  by  this  time,  had  resumed 
seat  upon  his  horse,  quickly  stationed  himself  be- 
tween the  approaching  young  knight  and  the 
Earl  of  Richmond.  Then,  taking  the  crown  that 
had  encircled  Richard's  helmet  throughout  the 
battle,  he  set  it  solemnly  upon  that  of  Henry. 

Whereupon — "The  King  is  dead,  long  live  the 
King!"  the  cry  rippled  abroad  over  the  sangui- 
nary field  of  Bosworth;  and  the  blazing  August 
sun  beat  down  upon  a  circle  of  upraised,  flashing 
swords,  unsheathed  in  promise  of  fealty  to  the 
new  monarch. 


CHAPTER    I 

A   WARRANT    UPON    DOUGLAS 

UPON  a  massive  chair  of  state  within  the 
private   audience   chamber,    which   ad- 
joined the  throne  room  in  the  venerable 
castle   of  Kenilworth,   sat  King   Henry   VII, 
gloomily  brooding.    An  ermine  trimmed  robe  of 
softest  velvet  fell  from  his  shoulders,  rippling 
over  the  steps  of  the  raised  dais  to  the  floor  be- 
low; a  golden,  jeweled  crown  sat  awry  upon  his 
head. 

Five  years  as  reigning  monarch  of  a  discon- 
tented and  rebellious  people  had  borne  their 
weight  more  heavily  upon  him  than  had  the  whole 
of  the  twenty-nine  preceding  them.  Though  yet 
young,  as  time  relatively  to  the  man  is  commonly 
measured,  his  hair  and  carefully  pointed  beard 
were  shot  with  premature  gray.  His  counte- 
nance, deeply  lined,  was  overspread  with  a  sickly 
pallor.  His  hands,  clutching  upon  the  arms  of 

18 


A  WARRANT  UPON  DOUGLAS 

the  damask-covered  chair  into  which  he  had 
thrown  himself,  and  in  which  he  was  now  half- 
sitting,  half-reclining,  trembled  as  though  pal- 
sied with  an  enfeebled  age. 

His  royal  marriage  with  Elizabeth  of  York, 
daughter  of  Henry  VI,  had  marked  the  consum- 
mation of  his  loftiest  ambition.  The  omen  of 
the  white  rose  mingling  with  the  red  had  been 
pleasantly  fulfilled.  Outwardly  his  position 
seemed  sufficiently  secure.  But  beneath  the  sur- 
face there  were  incessant  ebullitions  of  seditious 
sentiment  threatening  momentarily  to  seethe  to 
the  top  and  engulf  him.  Always,  must  dissem- 
bling be  met  with  keen  and  smooth  diplomacy; 
plot,  with  adroit  and  clever  counter-plot. 

Because  of  his  open  aversion  to  war,  his  appre- 
ciation of  the  advantages  of  negotiation  and  arbi- 
tration, he  was  stigmatized  by  his  secret  enemies 
as  being  greedy  and  avaricious.  Yet,  on  the 
other  hand,  had  he  amassed  great  armies  and 
plunged  them  headlong  into  foreign  conflict, 
thereby  burdening  his  subjects  with  increased 
taxation,  he  would  doubtless  have  been  regarded 
by  these  same  malcontents  as  being  extravagant 
and  needlessly  cruel. 

19 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

During  the  space  of  the  greater  part  of  an 
hour  the  King  remained  seated  in  the  precise  at- 
titude in  which  the  opening  of  the  present  chapter 
discovered  him.  His  chin  lowered  upon  his 
breast ;  his  gaze  fixed  straight  before  him ;  his  fin- 
gers tapping  ceaselessly  upon  the  arms  of  his 
chair. 

Then,  after  the  manner  of  a  draped  lay-figure 
imbued  with  sudden  life,  he  sprang  to  his  feet, 
threw  aside  the  purple  robes  enveloping  him  and 
paced  with  nervous  footfalls  across  the  floor. 
Occasionally  he  would  pause,  incline  his  head,  and 
pass  his  hand  fretfully  across  his  brow.  Once  he 
stopped,  leaning  heavily  against  a  marble  image 
of  Kenelph,  Saxon  king  of  Mercia,  from  whom 
the  castle  had  its  name.  The  sun  of  a  September 
afternoon  shining  brilliantly  through  one  of  the 
western  windows  bathed  them,  the  marble  effigy 
and  the  man,  in  squares  of  vari-colored  light ;  af- 
fording thus  a  sharp  contrast  between  the  old  and 
the  new.  In  the  chiseled  head  of  stone  the  stamp 
of  an  iron  will  was  predominant  in  every  feature. 
Those  of  the  living  bespoke  no  less  the  posses- 
sion of  a  will ;  but  a  will  that  would  seek  ever  to 
achieve  its  purposes  through  the  exercise  of 

20 


A  WARRANT  UPON  DOUGLAS 

crafty  cunning.  The  one  had  been  grimly  de- 
termined, brave,  and  openly  cruel  and  tyrannical. 
The  other  was  a  secret  coward,  masking  his  cruel- 
ties beneath  the  guise  of  virtue. 

Suddenly,  looking  up  into  the  stone  face  of  the 
dead  king,  the  living  king  smiled. 

"Yea,"  said  he.  "We  will — rather  we  must — 
yea,  we  must  command  it  to  be  done.  And  by 
doing  it  in  that  way,  'twill  be  transfixing  two  bul- 
locks with  a  single  dart." 

Thereupon,  mounting  the  steps  of  the  dais  and 
reseating  himself  in  his  chair,  he  carefully  donned 
his  robes  of  state,  composed  his  features,  and 
gently  pulled  a  golden  tassel  depending  from  a 
silken  cord  at  his  elbow. 

"Command  my  lord  of  Stanley  instantly  to  at- 
tend me,"  was  Henry's  stern  behest  to  the  court 
attendant,  who  bowed  himself  within  one  of  the 
curtained  entrances. 

Very  soon  thereafter  Stanley  came  in.  Ap- 
proaching the  dais,  he  knelt  upon  the  lower  step, 
touching  with  his  lips  the  indifferent  and  cold 
hand  extended  to  him. 

"My  lord  of  Stanley,"  said  the  King,  "fetch 
yonder  stool  and  dispose  thyself  beside  our  knee. 

21 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

We  would  have  speech  of  thee — and  council." 
Then,  to  the  attendant  waiting  near  the  entrance, 
"Ralston,"  he  ordered  tersely,  "we  would  have  it 
known  that  we  will  brook  no  interruption  till  this 
conference  be  ended.  But  hold !  do  thou  lay  com- 
mands upon  lords  Oxford  and  de  Vere,  and  Sir 
Richard  Rohan,  to  be  ready  and  waiting  against 
our  present  summons.  Thou  mayst  go,  Ral- 
ston." 

Silently  the  attendant  withdrew.  Folding  his 
arms  and  looking  steadily  into  Lord  Stanley's 
eyes,  the  King  resumed. 

"Now,  Stanley,  to  the  business  in  hand.  From 
what  source  hast  thou  drawn  thy  information  that 
secret  emissaries  are  at  this  moment  on  their  way 
hither  to  acquaint  Sir  Richard  of  the  facts  con- 
cerning his  noble  lineage?" 

"Are  they  then  facts,  my  liege?"  queried  Stan- 
ley, his  arched  eyebrows  plainly  evidencing  his 
surprise.  "Is  it  indeed  true  that  this  youthful, 
fair-haired  upstart  may  lay  a  true  and  proper 
claim  to  the  title  of  Earl  of  Warwick,  and, 
through  that  title,  a  seat  upon  this  very  throne?" 

"Presume  not  upon  our  indulgence,  Lord 
Stanley,"  warned  the  King  in  a  menacing  tone. 

22 


A  WARRANT  UPON  DOUGLAS 

"Thou  hast  met  question  with  question.  Now, 
my  lord,  the  source  of  thy  information." 

"I  crave  thy  pardon,  liege,"  Stanley  hastened 
to  return.  "Full  well  thou  knowest,  august  high- 
ness, that  every  foul  rebellion  doth  breed  its 
fouler  traitors.  From  these  coward  turn-coats 
have  I  stumbled  upon  this  knowledge.  The  in- 
formation thus  gained  I  have  supplemented  and 
verified  with  that  gleaned  by  thine  own  honest 
and  tireless  servants.  'Tis,  I  fear  me  much,  un- 
impeachable." 

"But  under  God's  heaven,  Stanley,  how  came 
these  rag-tag  rebels  upon  the  facts  as  to  Rohan's 
lineage?  Marry,  my  lord,  methought. 'twas  hid- 
den as  though  sunken  within  the  very  entrails  of 
the  earth." 

"Through  one  Michael  Lidcote,  a  captain  of 
ship  in  Duke  Francis's  fleet.  The  same,  I'll  swear, 
who  brought  thee  to  England  at  Milford  Haven," 
Lord  Stanley  explained.  'Twas  done,  I  hear, 
out  of  a  certain  love  for  the  young  knight,  and 
a  desire  to  witness  his  elevation  to  his — true  posi- 
tion." 

For  a  considerable  space  thereafter  the  King 
remained  silent,  his  chin  resting  upon  the  fingers 

23 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

of  his  clasped  hands,  his  pale  blue  eyes  gazing 
straight  ahead  of  him  into  space.  In  retrospect, 
his  mind  had  turned  to  the  contemplation  of  some 
happy  days  in  sunny  Brittany  when  he  and  Sir 
Richard  were  being  reared  and  disciplined  to- 
gether beneath  the  eye  of  the  stern  but  kind  old 
Duke.  The  images  materialized  must  have  been 
pleasing  to  him,  for  the  hard  lines  of  his  face 
softened  into  the  semblance  of  a  smile.  Then, 
with  a  sudden,  determined  lowering  of  his 
head,  a  straightening  of  his  thin  lips  beneath 
his  sparse  beard,  he  turned  again  toward  Stan- 
ley. 

"Ah!  how  true  it  is,"  said  he,  "that  desire  for 
fame  and  power  is  but  an  insatiate  parasite  which 
gluts  and  fattens  upon  the  care-free  joys  of 
youth.  What  is  this  glittering  panoply,  pray, 
but  a  mask?  A  shining  veneer,  shielding  from 
view  the  process  of  decay  within?  And  now, 
after  yielding  nearly  all — my  health,  my 
strength,  my  happiness — you  ask  of  me  that  I 
shall  spill  the  blood  of  my  dearest  friend.  The 
companion  of  my  joyous  youth.  Him,  say  you, 
must  I  offer  up  on  the  gory  altar  of  public  ex- 
pediency. That  I  must  perforce  still  the  one 

24 


A  WARRANT  UPON  DOUGLAS 

brave  heart  that  beats  with  an  unselfish  devotion 
to  my  cause  and  person." 

'Tis  needless  to  tell  thee,  my  liege,"  purred 
Stanley,  who  was  ever  careful  to  guard  his  pre- 
cedence at  the  throne,  "that  the  peace  and  in- 
tegrity of  a  nation  depend  upon  thy  secure  hold 
upon  this  very  seat.  Even  that  which  but  re- 
motely menaces  should  be  rendered  impotent. 
These  expressions  of  thy  tender  sentiment,  your 
highness,  are  attuned  in  harmony  with  thy  noble 
character  as  a  man,  but " 

"Yea,  Stanley,"  interrupted  Henry,  making  a 
show  of  partial  surrender  to  the  flatterer's  wiles, 
"but  am  I  longer  a  man?  There's  the  question, 
my  lord.  Dare  I  think  as  a  man,  and  not  as  a 
fear-stricken,  fettered  monarch?  Is  it  not  true 
that  the  ruler  hath  swallowed  up  the  mortal,  leav- 
ing naught  but  an  outward  pageant?  An  ef- 
figy of  cold  and  heartless  clay  upon  which  to 
drape  a  tawdry  robe;  to  set  a  jeweled  crown;  to 
hang  a  golden  scepter?" 

Stanley  ventured  no  reply,  and  a  somewhat 
prolonged  interval  of  silence  followed  Henry's 
theatric  outburst. 

"Think  not  that  I  am  mad,  my  lord  of  Stan- 

25 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

ley,"  the  King  at  length  resumed,  and  in  a  tone 
so  low,  melancholy,  and  sad,  that  its  false  note 
was  scarcely  to  be  perceived.  "It  is  indeed  true 
that  my  first  concern  must  ever  be  to  safeguard 
my  beloved  people.  Hath  these  rumors  concern- 
ing the  young  knight  been  spread  broadcast,  my 
lord?  It  were  an  ill  time  to  essay  a  cure  of  the 
malady,  and  it  had  festered  over  all  England." 

"It  hath  not  done  so,  your  majesty,"  Lord 
Stanley  assured  him.  "The  aged  seaman  and  all 
but  two  of  the  seditious  leaders  are  now  impris- 
oned within  the  tower.  The  pair  who  escaped  the 
meshes  of  my  net  are  now  journeying  hither 
from  London  in  disguise.  I  have  their  names 
and  know  well  what  like  they  are." 

"Tis  well.  Thy  station  be  the  forfeit,  an 
they  elude  thee.  Still  all  their  busy  tongues,  my 
lord.  We  lay  upon  thee  royal  warrant  of  their 
death,  and  that  speedily.  Concerning  the  young 
knight's  progenitors,  Lord  Stanley,  it  doth  please 
us  to  make  of  thee  our  single  confidant.  This  no- 
ble is  in  truth  the  son  of  the  Duke  of  Clarence — 
the  good  Duke,  who  came  to  his  untimely  end  at 
the  gentle  hands  of  our  esteemed  father-in-law. 

Thou  dost  remember  well  that  he  was  attainted 

26 


A  WARRANT  UPON   DOUGLAS 

of  high  treason,  and  that  we  took  measures  ac- 
cordingly to  have  his  issue  pronounced  illegiti- 
mate. 'Twas  done,  as  thou  canst  see,  to  guard 
against  such  a  contingency  as  hath  now  arisen. 
But  to  my  tale.  Sir  Richard,  when  but  a  suckling 
infant,  was  carried  secretly  to  Brittany,  and  en- 
joyed there,  with  me,  the  powerful  protection  of 
Duke  Francis.  Why  the  die  of  England's 
sovereignty  was  cast  in  my  favor,  I  know  not. 
God  wot,  Stanley,  I  wish  that  it  had  not  been! 
Now,  my  lord,  attend  our  every  word.  The  weak 
stripling,  whom  base  Richard  the  Third  believed 
to  be  the  true  Earl  of  Warwick  hath,  under  our 
command,  for  long  been  immured  within  the 
tower.  It  is  perhaps  the  better  part  of  wisdom 
that  we  should  lesson  thee  that  an  exchange  of 
infants  was  many  years  ago  covertly  effected  by 
one  Dame  Tyrrell,  wife  of  Sir  James  Tyrrell, 
the  same  who  was  bribed  by  Richard  to  strangle 
his  two  nephews,  the  boy  dukes  remaining  be- 
twixt himself  and  the  throne.  Within  a  fort- 
night, Stanley,  do  thou  undertake  to  have  the 
news  of  the  death  of  this  changeling  early  pub- 
lished over  all  our  kingdom.  'Twere  the  more 
seemly,  mayhap,  and  it  appeared  to  have  tran- 

27 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

spired  through  natural  causes.  A  return  of  the 
sweating  sickness,  or  some  like  subterfuge." 

"And  the  young  knight,  Rohan;  what  of  him, 
most  mighty  liege?" 

"Him,  we  would  have  thee  to  know,"  said 
Henry,  "we  love  and  trust  above  any  man,  sav- 
ing thyself,  in  all  the  length  and  breadth  of  Eng- 
land. 

"Aye,  marry,  but " 

"Hold !  have  patience,  my  lord,  and  attend  me. 
We  know  well  what  thou  wouldst  say.  Him,  too, 
must  we  sacrifice  for  the  sake  of  the  peace  and 
safety  of  a  people  who  love  us  but  little.  Do 
thou  this  very  hour  issue  warrant  under  the  Great 
Seal  and  give  it  into  Sir  Richard's  hands  to  be 
delivered  by  him  upon  Douglas,  in  Castle  Yewe, 
in  Scotland.  Lay  royal  command  upon  Douglas 
that  his  courtiers  shall  engage  the  young  knight 
in  quarrel  and  honorable  conflict  to  the  end  that 
he  return  not  again  into  England." 

"By  the  rood,  august  highness!  wouldst  make 
him  the  bearer  of  his  own  warrant  of  death? 
'Tis  a  parlous  risky  business." 

"Yea,  my  lord.  But  a  risk  that  we  are  happy 
to  assume  out  of  a  spirit  of  fair  play,  and  as  a 

28 


A  WARRANT  UPON  DOUGLAS 

mark  of  our  highest  confidence.  And  know,  too, 
Stanley,"  Henry  said,  smiling  shrewdly,  "  'twill 
rid  us  of  many  a  Scottish  enemy.  The  young 
man  battles  tremendously  well.  And,  more  in 
favor  of  this  plan,  'twould  be  the  death  of  Sir 
Richard's  own  choosing,  mark  you." 

"Aye,  marry,  doth  he  fight  well.  I  can  see 
many  a  Scot's  midriff  lying  open  to  his  couched 
lance  or  drawn  sword.  My  liege,  shall  I  deliver 
warrant  here?" 

"Here,  and  now.  Let  Oxford  and  de  Vere 
be  witnesses  of  its  delivery.  Though,  we  charge 
thee  solemnly,  hint  not  to  either  of  its  purport. 
On  yonder  table  thou  wilt  find  parchment.  Take 
point  in  hand  and  write.  Send  Ralston  to  me 
when  thou  hast  done.  The  Queen  doth  await  our 
presence  within  the  Hall  of  Windows." 

For  an  hour  or  more  after  the  King  had  gone, 
the  eagle's  quill  within  Lord  Stanley's  fingers 
moved  slowly  back  and  forth  across  the  sheet  of 
parchment.  When  he  had  finished  with  the  body 
of  the  document  and  signed  his  name  he  lifted  his 
head  and  looked  keenly,  furtively  about  the  room. 
Arising,  he  moved  swiftly  from  curtain  to  cur- 
tain. Lifting  each,  he  peered  hastily  beneath  its 

29 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

heavy  folds.  Whereupon,  satisfied  that  he  was 
alone,  and  resuming1  his  seat  at  the  table,  he 
spread  before  him  another  sheet  of  parchment  and 
proceeded  to  copy,  word  for  word,  that  which  he 
had  written  upon  the  first. 

So  intently  did  he  engage  himself  upon  this 
task  that  he  failed  to  notice  the  silent  parting  of 
a  draped  entrance,  or  the  King's  catlike  tread 
upon  the  thick  pile  of  the  carpet  as  he  moved 
stealthily  across  the  floor.  A  long  hand,  very 
slender  and  very  much  be  jeweled,  moving  across 
the  table  before  him  and  taking  up  the  original 
document,  gave  Stanley  his  first  hint  of  his  sove- 
reign's presence. 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  and  not  the 
slightest  quivering  of  an  eyebrow,  Lord  Stanley 
arose  and  bowed  low  before  Henry.  He  met  the 
look  of  stern  inquiry  on  the  King's  face  with  a 
quiet  smile. 

"I  crave  thy  pardon,  liege,  on  the  behalf  of  my 
sluggish  fingers.  Fitter  are  they  to  wield  sword 
in  thy  cause  than  pen." 

"So  it  would  seem.  What  meaneth  this  second 
transcript,  my  lord  of  Stanley?" 

"I  bethought  me  that  it  would  be  well,"  re- 
30 


A  WARRANT  UPON  DOUGLAS 

plied  Stanley  upon  the  instant,  "because  of  the 
grave  importance  of  the  document,  to  issue  it  in 
duplicate.  The  one  to  give  the  young  knight 
safe  conduct  to  his  journey's  end,  the  other  to  se- 
crete within  the  lining  of  his  cloak  or  doublet." 

'Tis  a  most  excellent  thought,  by  my  faith!" 
exclaimed  the  King,  the  black  cloud  passing  from 
his  brow.  "Command  Oxford,  de  Vere,  and  Sir 
Richard  to  our  presence.  We  would  have  done 
with  the  business,  and  with  all  speed  dispatch  the 
young  knight  upon  his  travels." 


CHAPTER    II 

ON    THE    WAY    TO    CASTLE    YEWE 

THE  ceremony  attending  the  departure  of 
Sir  Richard  upon  his  singular  errand  was 
quickly  over;  and  well  within  the  limits 
of  that  day  the  massive  pile  of  ivy-grown  walls, 
crenelated  towers  and  copper-tipped  turrets  of 
Kenilworth  Castle  had  dipped  beneath  the  un- 
dulating masses  of  autumn  tinted  foliage  behind 
the  young  knight  and  John  Belwiggar,  whom  the 
King  had  nominated  to  be  Sir  Richard's  squire 
and  attendant. 

Within  Henry's  mind  the  expedient  of  dis- 
patching the  young  knight  as  bearer  of  his  own 
death  warrant  had  been  conceived  in  a  spirit  of 
absurd  bravado.  So  far  as  his  calculating  and 
selfish  character  permitted,  he  was  fond  of  him. 
But  if  he  suffered  a  regret,  it  was  wholly  per- 
sonal, and  because  of  circumstances  that  had  com- 
pelled him  to  part  from  one  in  whose  companion- 

32 


ON  THE  WAY  TO  CASTLE  YEWE 

ship  he  had  derived  a  great  deal  of  pleasure.  In 
respect  of  any  feeling  of  genuine  sorrow,  the 
entire  scene  enacted  between  himself  and  Stanley 
had  been  a  complete  farce.  Though  he  had  in- 
vested that  doughty  warrior  with  many  and  dis- 
tinguished honors  and  great  power,  he  had  never 
entertained  on  the  behalf  of  his  chief  official  that 
feeling  of  confidence  so  essential  to  the  com- 
plaisance of  mind  of  any  ruler.  It  was  his  in- 
tention to  set  before  that  individual  an  example 
of  integrity  and  devotion  that  the  King  fancied 
would  be  well  worthy  of  emulation.  As  an  ad- 
ditional safeguard,  however,  he  caused  secret 
spies  of  his  own  selection  to  be  dispatched  in  the 
train  of  Sir  Richard.  In  adopting  this  course  he 
believed  himself  to  be  keeping  the  situation  well 
in  hand;  at  once  guarding  against  any  inter- 
ruption of  the  final  delivery  of  the  unusual  war- 
rant, and  providing  him  with  the  means  of  test- 
ing Lord  Stanley's  devotion  to  his  cause. 

Thus,  had  not  Sir  Richard  taken  it  into  his 
head  to  follow  an  itinerary  entirely  different 
from  either  the  one  suggested  by  Henry,  or  that 
secretly  transmitted  to  him  beside  the  portcullis 
by  Lord  Stanley,  some  state  problems  of  vast 

33 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

magniture  and  importance  might  then  have  been 
solved.  As  it  subsequently  transpired,  all  along 
and  between  the  roads  that  it  was  definitely  sup- 
posed the  young  knight  and  his  squire  would 
make  their  pilgrimage,  King's  emissaries  were 
constantly  meeting  and  receiving  entertainment 
of  Stanley's  lieutenants,  as  well  as  the  other  way 
about.  Obviously,  neither  the  one  side  nor  the 
other  dared  to  hint  of  its  purpose  of  espionage 
or  destination;  nor  yet  dared  to  display  any  un- 
due haste  in  parting  to  pursue  its  secret  way.  It 
also  became  necessary  for  them  to  observe  every 
possible  precaution  in  the  matter  of  covering  up 
their  trails,  one  from  another;  and,  in  this  way, 
the  innocent  cause  of  this  rather  amusing  game 
of  cross-purposes  was  permitted  to  go  unmolest- 
ed upon  his  way. 

The  route  that  Sir  Richard  had  chosen  ren- 
dered it  necessary  for  himself  and  squire  to  tread 
paths  and  by-ways  used  chiefly  by  peasant  farm- 
ers and  sheep-herders.  At  times,  after  a  heavy 
fall  of  rain,  such  of  these  as  wound  through  the 
low  lying  valleys  would  become  wholly  impassa- 
ble, making  it  needful  for  our  pilgrims  to  await 
the  draining  of  the  flood  into  the  rivers,  or  to 

34 


ON  THE  WAY  TO  CASTLE  YEWE 

make  long  detours  to  come  upon  the  other  side. 
For  this  reason,  it  had  reached  well  along  into 
October  before  they  had  passed  through  the  Lib- 
erties of  Berwick  and  set  foot  upon  Scottish  soil. 

It  was  growing  late  in  the  afternoon  of  their 
second  day  in  Scotland,  and  while  they  were 
skirting  the  edge  of  a  rock-tarn  lying  in  gloomy 
seclusion  in  the  middle  of  a  desolate  moor,  that 
Sir  Richard  was  murderously  deprived  of  the 
services  of  his  squire  and  brave  attendant.  There 
had  been  no  hint  of  the  approach  of  the  tragedy ; 
no  clue  as  to  the  identity  or  purpose  of  the  cow- 
ardly perpetrators  following  its  occurrence. 

Mounted  upon  his  mettlesome  charger,  which, 
though  uncommonly  powerful,  was  somewhat 
fatigued  because  of  the  many  miles  put  behind 
him  that  day,  the  young  knight  was  riding  slowly 
along  some  two  hundred  yards  in  advance  of  Bel- 
wiggar.  The  sky  was  heavy,  gray,  and  lowering ; 
and  the  boulder-strewn,  monotonously  level  ex- 
panse of  moor  affording  no  pleasant  aspect  or 
interesting  contrasts  to  the  eye,  Sir  Richard's 
gaze  remained  fixed  upon  the  nodding  head  of 
his  stallion.  So  near  the  brink  was  the  narrow 
path  winding  along  the  waters  of  the  tarn,  and 

35 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

so  unruffled  was  its  surface,  that  steed  and 
armored  rider  were  mirrored  faithfully,  point  for 
point,  beneath. 

Hearing  a  sharp  rattling  of  steel-shod  hoofs 
behind  him,  and  vaguely  marveling  as  to  the  cause 
of  this  unexpected  and  unusual  burst  of  energy 
upon  the  part  of  his  squire,  the  young  knight 
turned,  with  a  smile  upon  his  face,  to  greet  Bel- 
wiggar's  approach.  To  his  horrified  surprise  he 
was  but  just  in  time  to  see  the  honest  fellow 
writhing  in  an  agony  of  death,  while  the  horse 
that  he  had  so  lately  bestrode  in  the  prime  vigor 
of  rugged  health  whisked  blindly  ahead  of  the 
young  knight  along  the  road,  till,  crashing 
against  a  huge  boulder  upreared  within  its  path, 
it  stumbled,  seemed  to  hang  for  an  instant  in  mid- 
air, and  then,  neighing  with  wild  affright,  dis- 
appeared with  a  tremendous  splash  beneath  the 
surface  of  the  tarn. 

Apprehending  some  immediate  danger  to  him- 
self, Sir  Richard,  upon  the  instant,  drew  his 
visor  close.  Just  as  he  had  accomplished  this 
move  a  bolt  struck  fair  upon  the  joint  of  his 
neck-guard;  and,  though  it  did  him  no  harm  be- 
yond causing  his  head  to  ring  with  the  force  of 

36 


ON  THE  WAY  TO  CASTLE  YEWE 

the  impact,  it  was  the  cunning  of  his  armorer 
alone  that  had  saved  him  from  a  death  similar  to 
that  of  Belwiggar. 

Having  no  means  of  knowing  the  exact  direc- 
tion from  whence  the  arrows  had  been  sped,  and 
the  nature  of  the  ground  precluding  the  possi- 
bility of  sending  his  horse  over  it,  the  young 
knight  made  no  attempt  to  seek  out  and  punish 
his  assailant.  He  shot  a  glance  of  the  keenest 
scrutiny  from  boulder  to  boulder,  but  there  was 
no  sign  of  a  living  being  upon  the  moor.  Satis- 
fied that  Belwiggar's  death  must  go  unavenged 
for  the  time,  he  rode  back  to  where  he  lay  with  a 
feathered  shaft,  still  quivering,  protruding  from 
his  broad  breast. 

He  dismounted  beside  the  body,  tethering  his 
horse  in  the  hollow  between  two  rocky  promon- 
tories through  which  the  path  swung.  He  stood 
looking  around  him  for  a  space,  uncertain  what 
to  do.  So  overwhelmingly  appalling  and  strange 
were  the  circumstances  attending  the  tragedy, 
and  to  that  degree  was  Sir  Richard  oppressed  by 
his  melancholy  surroundings,  that  he  became 
filled  with  a  feeling  of  unspeakable  dread,  an 
almost  uncontrollable  desire  to  throw  himself 

37 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

upon  the  back  of  his  steed  and  gallop  swiftly 
away.  Torn  by  such  emotions,  it  was  no  light 
task  to  remain  upon  the  scene  for  the  purpose  of 
making  such  disposition  of  poor  Belwiggar's 
body  as  his  limited  means  would  permit.  By  em- 
ploying the  dead  warrior's  battle-ax  in  lieu  of 
mattock,  however,  he  contrived  to  hollow  out  a 
sufficient  space  to  lay  him  decently  away.  Then, 
piling  up  a  mound  of  loose  stones  above  the  shal- 
low grave,  Sir  Richard  remounted  and  pursued 
his  solitary  way  northward  toward  Bannockburn 
and  Castle  Yewe. 

As  he  journeyed  onward  the  young  knight 
made  many  determined  efforts  to  whistle  and 
sing  away  a  feeling  of  deep  melancholy  that  per- 
sisted in  setting  somberly  down  upon  him.  In 
the  manner  of  a  gloomy  procession  passing  in  re- 
view before  his  mind's  eye,  he  recalled  all  of  the 
wild  folklore  with  which  his  ears  had  been  be- 
guiled since  his  advent  into  Scotland. 

"Scour  ye'r  hoorse  ower  the  Sauchieburn 
Pass,"  a  toothless  and  horrible  old  hag  had  whis- 
pered into  his  unwilling  ear  upon  the  morning 
of  that  very  day.  "Dinna  ye  ken,"  she  had 
croaked,  "that  the  deil  flees  there  at  fall  o' 

38 


ON  THE  WAY  TO  CASTLE  YEWE 

nicht?"  and  the  bare  thought  that  he  would  be 
obliged  to  pass  the  night  there  alone,  with  noth- 
ing between  his  head  and  the  limitless  heavens 
but  a  possible  shelving  rock,  caused  icy  shivers 
of  fear  to  creep  along  his  back. 

There  was  one  weird  tale  in  particular  that  he 
had  heard  repeated  with  a  stubborn  insistence 
that  gave  to  it  some  semblance  of  verity.  It  was 
that  concerning  a  certain  red  tavern,  which,  ac- 
cording to  the  peasant's  lively  imaginations,  ap- 
peared suddenly  along  lonely  and  unfrequented 
roadways,  as  though  set  there  by  the  Evil  One. 
After  a  time,  then,  it  was  reported  to  vanish  as 
suddenly  and  mysteriously  as  it  had  appeared, 
taking  along  with  it  into  the  Unknown  any  luck- 
less wayfarer  that  had  chanced  to  seek  shelter 
beneath  its  phantom  roof. 

"Now,  I  am  free  to  own,"  Sir  Richard  argued 
with  himself,  "that  there  are  certain  strange  phe- 
nomena of  which  the  human  mind  can  give  no 
proper  accounting.  But  when  it  comes  to  tales 
of  gibbering  ghosts,  shadowy,  phantom  shapes 
and  flying  taverns — why,  by  'r  Lady!  I'll  set  a 
barrier  of  common  sense  against  my  credulity 
and  refuse  to  believe." 

39 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

He  was  quite  aware,  moreover,  that  none  of 
his  countrymen  had  ever  journeyed  through 
Scotland  without  being  bedeviled  by  somewhat  of 
these  same  gruesome  tales.  While  it  was  true 
that  the  wily  Lord  Bishop  Kennedy  had  succeed- 
ed in  effecting  a  truce  of  seven  years'  duration 
between  England  and  Scotland,  it  was  obviously 
beyond  him  to  beguile  the  yeomanry  into  view- 
ing an  Englishman  with  anything  approaching 
favor.  Nor  yet,  by  any  possible  chance  or  sub- 
terfuge, could  he  have  set  a  truce  to  their  wag- 
ging tongues.  Legends  and  superstitions  were 
a  part  of  their  daily  existence,  and  in  proportion 
as  they  were  fearsome  they  enjoyed  spreading 
them  about. 

Revolving  these  matters  within  an  uneasy 
mind,  Sir  Richard  gave  small  heed  to  his  sur- 
roundings. By  now,  he  had  laid  the  moor  well 
behind  him.  Through  a  slight  rift  in  the  rolling 
cloud-pall  peered  the  last  segment  of  the  setting 
sun;  and  away  to  the  westward  could  be  caught 
an  occasional  glinting  of  the  sea  as  the  waves 
billowed  through  its  golden  reflection. 

Just  ahead  of  him  the  road  dipped  into  a  val- 
ley. Along  its  bowl-like  bed  lay  a  morass,  which 

40 


ON  THE  WAY  TO  CASTLE  YEWE 

gave  off  continuously  a;  heavy,  bluish,  and 
probably  poisonous  vapor.  To  the  north  of  the 
morass  the  road  ascended  in  easy  gradients  till  it 
clipped  the  sky  line  at  the  distance  of  a  league 
and  a  half,  or  thereabouts,  from  where  he  rode. 

At  the  precise  point  where  the  road  showed 
bold  and  clear  against  the  clouds  he  fancied  that 
he  saw  the  expiring  rays  of  the  sun  gleaming 
against  a  point  of  vivid  color.  As  he  descended 
into  the  valley  to  where  the  road  divided  the 
morass,  the  point  of  color  disappeared  from  view, 
and  all  of  the  landscape  resumed  its  gray  and 
monotonous  appearance. 

Not  wishing  to  inhale  the  miasmic  vapor,  in 
which,  he  feared,  might  lurk  some  dire  fever,  Sir 
Richard  drank  long  und  deep  of  untainted  air. 
So  much  so  indeed  that  the  flesh  of  his  back  and 
breast  impinged  strong  upon  his  steel  harness. 
Then,  setting  spurs  to  his  stallion,  he  galloped 
through  the  dank  cloud  without  a  breath  of  it 
reaching  into  his  nostrils. 

As  he  drew  near  the  northern  reaches  of  the 
valley  and  rounded  a  gigantic  boulder  that  stood 
sentinel  to  the  upper  plain,  he  came  full  upon  a 
tavern  that  he  at  once  surmised  to  be  the  same  of 

41 


THE    RH1D    TAVERN 

which  he  had  heard  so  much.  Upon  the  instant 
that  he  did  so,  he  reined  in  his  steed  to  a  dead 
stand.  Aside  from  its  brilliant  though  somewhat 
weather-beaten  coat  of  scarlet,  it  differed  in 
many  respects  from  'the  taverns  then  commonly 
to  be  seen  along  the  highways.  Saving  at  the 
very  apex  of  its  steep  gable,  its  front  was  un- 
pierced  by  windows.  Above  its  single,  narrow 
door,  which  opened  beneath  the  jut  of  the  upper 
story,  hung  a  signboard  bearing  upon  its  surface 
the  device  of  a  vulture  feeding  its  young. 
Withal,  however,  it  appeared  to  be  material 
enough,  and  this  made  it  impossible  for  Sir  Rich- 
ard to  account  for  a  feeling  of  unutterable  dread 
that  took  complete  "possession  of  his  mind. 

Once  he  had  almost  decided  upon  riding 
straight  to  its  entrance  to  beat  upon  the  rude 
panels  of  the  door  for  admittance  within.  But 
before  he  could  summon  sufficient  courage  to 
carry  out  his  half -formed  design,  a  mortal  terror 
returned  strong  upon  him,  and  forthwith  he  sent 
his  stallion  past  it  at  a  furious  gallop. 

It  stood  a  full  quarter  of  a  league  at  his  back 
before  the  ungovernable  fear  within  him  gave 
ground  to  shame,  He  pulled  up  sharp,  then 

42 


ON  THE  WAY  TO  CASTLE  YEWE 

wheeled,   and  rode  slowly  back  to  its  sinister 
door. 

As  he  knocked  with  the  scabbard  of  his  sword 
upon  the  heavy  planks  a  drop  of  rain  splashed 
against  his  helmet,  trickled  down  over  his  closed 
visor,  and  dripped  through  one  of  its  orifices 
upon  his  chin. 


CHAPTER     III 

OF  A  NIGHT  IN  THE  RED  TAVERN 

AS  Sir  Richard  glanced  above  the  jutting 
cornice  he  noted  that  the  clouds  had 
turned  to  a  murky  green.    Ragged  ten- 
tacles were  trailing  ominously  earthward  as  the 
storm  raged  down  upon  the  sea.    Appreciating 
the  need  of  immediate  shelter,  and  having  as  yet 
heard  no  answering  sounds  from  within,  he  sent 
another  fusillade  of  blows  against  the  door. 

Almost  upon  the  instant  there  followed  a  loud 
clanking  of  iron  chains  and  bolts.  Then,  as  the 
door  swung  slowly  inward,  there  stood  revealed 
within  the  open  space  a  singularly  odd  and  strik- 
ing figure  of  a  man.  So  extraordinarily  tall  was 
he  that  he  was  obliged  to  stoop  to  make  way  for 
his  head  beneath  the  lintel  as  he  set  his  foot  upon 
the  step.  He  vouchsafed  no  word  of  welcome 
or  good  cheer,  but  stood  silent,  waiting  for  the 
traveler  to  speak. 

44 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  RED  TAVERN 

With  his  sparse  hair  streaming  in  the  augment- 
ing wind,  his  keen  eyes  burning  within  the 
shadow  of  a  thicket  of  brows;  his  veritable  beak 
of  a  nose — vying  with  that  of  the  crudely  painted 
vulture  above  his  head — and  his  thin,  bloodless 
lips,  he  appealed  to  the  young  knight  like  any- 
thing but  a  picture  of  a  hospitable  inn-keeper. 
It  being  habitual  to  associate  with  these  highway 
entertainers  a  certain  rotundity  of  figure  and 
jollity  of  demeanor.  The  one  confronting  Sir 
Richard  was  attenuated  to  the  last  degree,  though 
in  despite  of  this  the  breadth  of  his  wrist,  and 
the  clutch  of  his  bony  fingers  upon  the  latch, 
betrayed  his  possession  of  a  more  than  usual 
measure  of  physical  strength. 

"Hast  thou  peace  and  provender  for  a  wayfar- 
ing knight  and  horse?"  our  astonished  pilgrim 
made  out  to  inquire. 

Even  then  the  landlord  did  not  trouble  him- 
self to  speak.  Bowing  assent,  however,  he  signed 
Sir  Richard  to  dismount  and  enter.  As  he  com- 
plied, another  man,  with  features  very  much  re- 
sembling the  first,  but  whose  figure  was  grossly 
misshapen,  squat,  hunchbacked,  and  long-armed, 
emerged  from  the  obscurity  of  the  room  and  led 

45 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

away  his  horse.  This  move  was  not  accomplished 
without  a  considerable  effort  upon  the  hunch- 
back's part,  for  the  spirited  animal  pricked  up 
its  ears,  champed  its  bit,  and  hung  back  on  the 
bridle  at  sight  of  the  apparition  tugging  at  the 
other  end. 

It  was  not  without  an  inward  sense  of  fear 
that  the  young  knight  moved  toward  the  glowing 
blaze,  after  he  had  seen  his  horse  safely  led, 
though  stubbornly  contesting  every  inch  of  the 
way,  around  the  corner  of  the  building.  As  he 
approached  the  chimney-side,  a  huge  wolf- 
hound lying  upon  the  hearth  half  rose  upon  its 
haunches. 

In  the  bright  light  of  the  fire  Sir  Richard  could 
see  the  stiff,  wiry  gray  hairs  elevating  along  its 
spine,  and  the  gleaming  of  white  fangs  as  it 
curled  its  lips  from  off  them  and  emitted  a  sav- 
age growl. 

"Crouch,  Demon  I"  commanded  the  inn-keeper 
in  a  voice  which,  though  low,  seemed  by  far 
more  menacing  than  the  savage  grumble  of  the 
beast. 

The  hound  instantly  obeyed,  resuming  its  re- 
cumbent attitude  and  regarding  the  intruder 

46 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  RED  TAVERN 

furtively  the  while  out  of  the  tail  of  its  yellow 
eyes. 

By  now  the  wind  had  risen  to  the  strength  of 
a  hurricane;  whining  and  shrieking  dismally,  it 
was  dashing  the  rain  with  tremendous  violence 
against  the  northern  and  eastern  walls  of  the 
tavern.  With  an  inward  acknowledgment  of 
his  indebtedness  to  a  kind  providence  for  having 
set  a  haven  of  refuge  of  any  description  along 
the  highway,  the  traveler  took  his  place  in  a  deep- 
seated  bench  beside  the  fire,  unloosed  the  fasten- 
ings of  his  helm  and  removed  his  gauntlets.  He 
made  as  if  to  unlock  his  greaves,  but  desisted 
upon  a  vivid  recollection  of  the  sharp  fangs  of 
the  wolfhound. 

"By  the  rood,  my  good  man,  but  how  it  doth 
blow,"  said  he,  rubbing  his  benumbed  hands  in 
front  of  the  warm  and  cheery  blaze.  "A  stoup 
of  red  wine  or  runlet  of  canary  would  scarce 
come  amiss  upon  such  a  night,  i'  truth." 

With  his  foot  touching  the  muzzle  of  the  dog, 
the  inn-keeper  had  taken  his  station  before  the 
fire ;  and,  whilst  the  lower  portion  of  his  tall  body 
was  bathed  in  its  ruddy  glare,  his  head  towered 
among  the  shadowy  beams  above.  By  the  dim 

47 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

semi-light  that  barely  laid  itself  against  his  pal- 
lid cheek,  Sir  Richard  could  see  that  his  host  was 
measuring  him  up  point  by  point ;  and  in  a  man- 
ner so  insolently  intent  that  he  became  possessed 
of  a  mad  itching  to  attempt  a  chastisement  of 
his  tormentor.  But  two  words,  and  these  spoken 
to  the  hound,  had  the  landlord  uttered  since  the 
young  knight  had  dismounted  before  the  door. 

"Well!"  exclaimed  our  pilgrim,  rapping  impa- 
tiently upon  the  table  before  him,  "an  thou  hast 
finished  with  thy  inventorying,  man;  bring  on  a 
stoup  of  wine.  And  be  good  enough  to  see  to 
it,  sir,  that  the  drink  be  advance  guard  to  a  bit 
of  supper." 

Thereupon  the  inn-keeper  bent  the  incensed 
Sir  Richard  a  bow  that  Lord  Cardinal  Bourchier 
himself  might  properly  have  envied. 

"Saidst  thou  not  something,  sir  knight,"  he  re- 
turned in  the  smoothest  of  tones,  "of  a  runlet  of 
canary?" 

His  manner  was  faultlessly  deferential,  but 
the  modulations  of  his  voice  conveyed  a  world 
of  ironical  badinage  that  was  wellnigh  intoler- 
able. The  young  knight  was  tired,  lonely,  and, 
if  the  truth  be  said,  half  fearful;  and  for  these 

48 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  RED  TAVERN 

reasons  proved  no  match  at  all  for  the  extraordi- 
nary tavern-keeper  at  that  soft  game.  Losing" 
for  the  moment  all  control  of  his  temper,  he 
sprang  petulantly  to  his  feet  and  rapped  angrily 
upon  the  wooden  bench  with  the  scabbard  of  his 
sword. 

"Devil  fly  away  with  the  canary,  sirrah!"  he 
retorted,  threateningly.  "I  tell  thee  now,  it  were 
the  better  suited  to  thy  health  that  thou  shouldst 
do  my  bidding,  man." 

"This  tavern,  good  my  knight,"  said  the  inn- 
keeper, apparently  not  in  the  least  ruffled,  and 
wholly  ignoring  his  guest's  display  of  anger, 
"boasts  but  a  meager  fare.  Plain  venison,  I  fear 
me  much,  must  needs  pass  muster  with  thy  dainty 
palate  in  lieu  of  larks  and  pigeons." 

A  nature  prone  to  sudden  disarrangement  of 
poise  is  usually  amenable  to  swift  reasoning  and 
control.  By  this  time,  Sir  Richard,  repenting  of 
his  burst  of  passion  and  appreciating  the  imbecil- 
ity of  a  resort  to  violence,  had  determined  in  his 
mind  to  do  his  utmost  to  meet  the  inn-keeper 
upon  his  own  ground.  He  arose,  thereupon,  and 
swept  toward  mine  host  his  most  profound 
curtesy. 

49 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

"Venison  from  thy  cupboard,"  said  he,  smiling 
in  a  good  humor  that  was  not  altogether  assumed, 
"would  stand  substitute  for  even  Karum-pie." 

With  a  grim  chuckle  the  inn-keeper  then  took 
himself  off.  The  hunchback  returned  presently 
bearing  upon  a  broad  platter  a  warmed  over  veni- 
son pasty  and  a  stoup  of  wine ;  which,  upon  tast- 
ing, Sir  Richard  found  to  be  of  a  most  excellent 
vintage.  He  was  disappointed  in  one  particular, 
however ;  for,  from  the  moment  of  the  landlord's 
exit  from  the  room,  the  young  knight  had  enter- 
tained the  hope  that  his  supper  might  be  served 
through  the  offices  of  a  comely  maid.  In  that 
event,  as  was  the  habit  of  the  times,  he  would 
have  enjoyed  her  companionship  through  the 
hour  of  eating.  He  could  accordingly  scarcely 
conceal  his  vexation  and  chagrin  upon  beholding 
the  lugubrious  hunchback. 

"The  Fates  defend  us!"  he  exclaimed  beneath 
his  breath.  "Merely  to  look  at  the  fellow  doth 
steal  away  mine  hunger." 

Well  within  the  zone  of  pleasing  warmth  of 
the  fire,  and  with  the  not  untuneful  beating  of 
the  wind  and  sleet  against  the  hollow  clapboards 
singing  in  his  ears,  Sir  Richard,  after  he  had  par- 

50 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  RED  TAVERN 

taken  of  his  supper,  remained  beside  the  table, 
his  elbows  resting  upon  its  top,  his  head  reclining 
against  his  hand.  A  delightful  drowsiness  was 
stealing  over  him,  causing  his  head  to  nod  lower 
and  lower.  Then,  with  a  relaxation  of  every 
muscle  of  his  body,  he  fell  forward  into  a  deep 
sleep. 

The  air  of  absolute  confidence  with  which  the 
inn-keeper  presently  entered  the  room;  the  de- 
liberate manner  in  which  he  went  about  unfast- 
ening and  intruding  his  hand  within  the  travel- 
er's wallet  seemed  adequately  to  indicate  that  the 
entire  circumstance  had  grown  out  of  a  well 
meditated  plan  of  action.  As  he  withdrew  King 
Henry's  warrant  and  clapped  his  eyes  upon  the 
great  red  seal  his  eyebrows  went  up  in  token  of 
astonishment.  With  extreme  deliberation  he 
broke  the  seal  and  proceeded  to  acquaint  himself 
with  its  purport. 

'Tis  a  passing  strange  and  untoward  business, 
this,"  he  muttered,  after  having  read  and  read 
again  the  contents  of  the  singular  document. 
"Aye,  a  passing  strange  business.  Is  it  but  an 
idle  frolic  of  a  king?  some  cruel  wager,  con- 
ceived in  wanton  jest?  Certes,  and  this  youth 

51 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

were  an  enemy  to  the  throne,  his  fair  head,  ere 
this,  had  fallen  beside  the  tower  block.  I  would 
that  we  could  attach  men  as  stanch,  devoted  and 
incorruptible  to  our  great  cause.  But  now,  since 
the  young  prince  is  dead,  what  cause  have  we?" 
Folding  carefully  the  parchment,  he  vented  a 
deep  sigh.  "The  labor  of  these  seven  years  is 
gone  for  naught.  Aye,  for  naught.  And  the 
great  army  that  is  bivouaced  here  to-night  in 
Scotland  is  like  unto  an  avenging  Juggernaut 
with  none  to  guide  its  course.  A  beast  of  prey 
bereft  of  a  head  wherewith  to  devour  its  enemy." 

Concluding  his  meditations,  the  inn-keeper, 
moving  toward  the  fire,  took  up  a  blazing  splinter 
and  addressed  himself  to  the  task  of  mending 
the  broken  seal.  Having  accomplished  this  to 
his  apparent  satisfaction,  he  returned  the  parch- 
ment whence  it  had  been  taken,  seated  himself 
beside  the  table  opposite  to  the  sleeping  young 
knight  and  resumed  the  thread  of  his  gloomy 
thoughts. 

"  'Tis  passing  strange  that  I — I,  James  Tyr- 
rell— wearing  the  stigma  of  a  murderer,  expatri- 
ate and  outlawed  from  my  country,  should  feel 
toward  this  comely  youth  a  sentiment  akin  to 

52 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  RED  TAVERN 

pity.  Even  would  I  make  attempt  to  save  him, 
and  I  could.  But,  I  fear  me,  'tis  impossible. 
The  very  nature  of  his  errand  furnishes  such 
proof  of  his  stubborn  integrity  that  'twere  but 
folly  to  make  trial  of  dissuading  him  from  going 
on.  An  I  had  awakened  him  to  display  the  vio- 
lated parchment,  he  would  have  had  at  me  with 
his  sword  for  an  arrant  traitor.  Even  as  he  bent 
me  that  pretty  bow,  I  could  see  the  fighting- 
man  in  his  gray  eye.  An  I  caused  him  to  be 
trussed  up  as  he  sleeps  to  hold  it  before  his  con- 
scious eyes,  he  would  dub  me  liar  and  base  imi- 
tator of  King  Henry's  signature  to  my  very 
teeth.  Reluctant  though  I  am  thus  to  do,  I  must 
perforce  allow  him  to  fare  away  upon  his  pil- 
grimage to  death." 

With  that  Tyrrell  arose,  leaning,  for  a  brief 
instant,  upon  the  table  above  the  sleeping  knight. 
Upon  the  instant  that  he  did  so  his  manner  under- 
went a  marked  transformation  from  passive  con- 
templation to  that  of  intent  and  earnest  scrutiny. 
Bending  his  eyes  upon  the  point  where  the  young 
man's  neck  escaped  from  his  steel  shoulder- 
guards,  he  stood  for  some  time  regarding  two 
small  and  blood-red  moles,  which  were  curiously 

53 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

joined  together  by  a  slender  filament  of  raised 
flesh.  In  any  other  but  the  recumbent  position 
that  the  sleeping  man's  head  had  naturally  as- 
sumed, the  birth-mark  would  have  been  hidden 
from  view  beneath  the  masses  of  golden-brown 
hair  growing  in  a  profusion  of  ringlets  behind 
his  delicately  modeled  ears. 

Then:  :  'Tis  a  glorious  dispensation  of  Di- 
vine Providence,"  declared  Tyrrell  solemnly, 
straightening  to  his  full  height  and  upraising  his 
right  hand,  whilst  his  left  remained  upon  the  un- 
conscious knight's  shoulder.  "And  we  thank 
thee,  merciful  God,  for  thy  kindness  in  thus  send- 
ing another  to  take  the  place  of  one  whom  thou 
didst  see  fit  to  take  away." 

Thereupon,  with  many  a  halt,  and  many  a 
backward  glance,  he  stole  quietly  from  the  room. 

His  advent  into  another,  wherein  four  armed 
men  were  amusing  themselves  over  a  game  of 
cards  and  conversing  together  in  guarded  under- 
tones, was  dramatic  in  the  extreme. 

He  took  his  stand  in  the  center  of  the  floor, 
the  flare  of  a  single  torch  speeding  waves  of 
light  and  shadow  along  his  tall  figure. 

"Noble  gentles,"  said  he,  "fellow  conspirators: 
54 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  RED  TAVERN 

Know  ye  all  that  a  just  God  hath  this  night 
deigned  to  smile  upon  our  cause.  That  even  now, 
in  the  room  without,  steeped  in  sweet  slumber 
'neath  the  influence  of  one  of  Friar  Diomed's 
harmless  potions,  there  is  a  fit  and  proper  candi- 
date for  a  throne  in  which  now  sits  a  base 
usurper." 

"Ay — marry,  is  this  true,  eh?  Well,  he  is  a 
good  enough  looking  young  fellow.  But,  'tis 
no  more  than  fair  that  the  traveler  should  well 
requite  us  for  thus  depriving  us  of  the  comforts 
of  a  cheery  room — eh!"  muttered  a  bearded  war- 
rior, who,  because  of  a  conspicuous  absence  of 
stools  or  chairs,  was  obliged  to  take  what  ease  he 
could  upon  the  floor.  "I  would  that  friend  Zenas 
might  fetch  bench  or  stool,"  he  added,  "so  that  I 
might  listen  to  thy  tale  in  seemly  comfort — ehl" 

"Have  done  with  thy  grumblings,  de  Claver- 
lok,"  spoke  up  another  member  of  the  quartet. 
"Pray,  Sir  James,  keep  not  longer  from  us  the 
identity  of  this  God-given  substitute.  We  are 
all  ears  to  hear." 

"Ay,  so  must  we  be,"  de  Claverlok  interrupted. 
"But  one  great  ear,  for  'tis  from  a  great  height 
we  must  listen — eh!" 

55 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

"First,"  resumed  Tyrrell,  unheedful  of  the  in- 
terruption, "I  would  hear  thy  separate  oaths 
registered  that  no  hint  shall  escape  thee  of  that 
which  I  am  about  to  tell.  This  oath  of  secrecy, 
noble  gentlemen,  doth  most  of  all  include  the 
solitary  traveler  now  asleep  in  the  outer  room. 
Until  such  time  as  I  shall  give  thee  warrant,  him 
must  we  keep  in  ignorance  of  our  purpose.  It  is 
my  firm  resolve  to  bring  him  within  view  of  our 
great  armed  force,  before  laying  bare  our  plans. 
Zenas,  my  good  brother,"  Sir  James  pursued, 
turning  to  the  dwarf,  "do  thou,  for  a  time,  stand 
sentinel  above  our  honorable  guest.  I  charge 
thee,  guard  him  zealously  from  harm  till  I  am 
ready  to  join  thee." 

After  Zenas  had  closed  the  door  behind  his  re- 
treating figure,  the  inn-keeper,  turning  toward 
the  three  men  remaining,  divulged  to  them  at 
great  length  and  with  fine  regard  to  details  our 
traveler's  true  name  and  titles,  as  well  as  the  na- 
ture of  his  errand  to  Douglas. 

"My  good  wife,  gentles,"  he  said,  concluding 
the  explanation  of  the  source  of  his  knowledge, 
"was  nurse  and  godmother  to  the  suckling  in- 
fant. Full  oft  did  we,  in  secret,  discuss  the  sig- 

56 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  RED  TAVERN 

nificance  of  these  marks  that  I  have  but  this  mo- 
ment again  looked  upon.  And,  now,  Friar 
Diomed,"  he  said,  addressing  himself  to  the 
churchman,  "art  thou  skilled  enough  in  the  as- 
sembling of  herb  and  root  to  prepare  me  a  sleep- 
ing potion  that  for  three  days  or  more  will  not 
lose  its  hold  upon  the  senses?" 

"Aye — that  can  I,"  replied  the  monk  cheer- 
fully. "An  you  but  set  it  to  the  nostrils  thrice 
in  the  day  'twill  sleep  a  man  safely  the  week 
through." 

"Then  do  thou  have  it  ready  betwixt  this  hour 
and  midnight.  De  Claverlok,  do  thou,  with  all 
dispatch,  ride  to  our  nearest  encampment.  Bring 
back  with  thee  a  dozen  mounted  men  and  a  cov- 
ered litter.  Whilst  awaiting  Sir  Lionel's  speedy 
return,  we  will  give  our  time  to  the  further  dis- 
cussion of  plans  and  expedients." 

By  now  the  storm  had  abated.  The  wind,  no 
longer  a  shrieking  tornado,  had  died  away  to  a 
plaintive  sighing  about  the  eaves.  The  rain  had 
entirely  ceased,  and  in  the  dead  solitude  of  the 
night  the  hoofbeats  of  de  Claverlok's  charger,  as 
he  galloped  away  upon  his  errand,  were  plainly 
audible  to  those  within  the  tavern;  to  all  saving 

57 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

Sir  Richard,  who,  still  sleeping  beside  the  fire, 
was  all  unconscious  of  an  eye,  a  patient,  gleam- 
ing, malevolent  eye,  which  remained  fixed  upon 
the  interior  through  a  narrow  window  set  high  in 
the  eastern  wall  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE    INCIDENT    OF   THE   WOLF-HOUND 

THE  eye  at  the  window  was  the  hunch- 
back's, who  was  perched  upon  the  top  of 
a  boulder,  which  he  had  rolled  to  the  side 
of  the  building  for  the  purpose  of  enabling  him 
to  see  within.  His  attitude  was  as  that  of  a 
spider  awaiting  its  victim,  and  betrayed  his  an- 
ticipation of  a  pleasurable  event  to  come.  If  Sir 
James  could  have  witnessed  his  brother's  unac- 
countable demeanor,  he  would  doubtless  have 
been  convinced  of  the  truth  of  a  rumor  that  was 
commonly  traded  among  his  men  to  the  effect 
that  Zenas  was  of  unsound  mind,  and  a  menace 
to  his  ambitious  plans. 

The  tottering  of  Zenas's  reason  was  directly 
due  to  the  circumstance  of  his  having  been  Sir 
James's  intimate  confederate  in  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  and  daring  conspiracies  in  a  time  when 
conspiracies  were  among  the  chief  products  of 

59 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

[England's  soil.  The  plot  in  question  had  been 
conceived  in  Tyrrell's  brain  at  the  time  when  he 
had  been  commissioned  by  Richard  III  to  make 
away  with  his  two  nephews  in  the  room  in 
which  they  were  then  imprisoned  in  the  Tower; 
and  involved  the  secret  transportation  of  the 
young  princes  to  a  place  of  safety  till  such  time 
as  a  sufficiently  armed  force  could  be  gathered 
to  set  the  older  of  the  two  upon  the  throne.  That 
one  of  the  boy  dukes  was  actually  murdered  and 
only  one  so  transported,  Sir  James  attributed  to 
the  egregious  blunder  or  willful  defection  of  one 
Dighton,  his  groom,  who  was  bribed  handsomely 
by  Tyrrell  to  assist  him  in  his  gigantic  enterprise. 
Dighton  had  suffered  a  summary  death  as  the 
penalty  of  his  fault.  Zenas,  garbed  in  the  habit 
of  a  Sister  of  the  Faith,  had  received  into  his 
charge  in  one  of  the  by-ways  of  London  a  fair- 
haired  young  girl,  who  was  the  escaped  prince  in 
disguise.  Together  they  had  traveled  from 
hamlet  to  hamlet  till  they  had  come  to 
the  haven  of  refuge  prepared  for  them 
in  Scotland.  From  whence  he  had  been 
so  indiscreet  as  to  return  to  England  and 
hint,  while  in  his  cups,  of  the  incubation  of  a 

60 


THE    WOLF-HOUND 

vast  uprising  in  the  North,  in  consequence  of 
which  he  had  been  seized,  thrown  into  the  torture 
chamber,  and  released  only  after  he  had  been 
blinded  in  one  eye  and  reduced  to  a  repulsive  cari- 
cature of  his  former  self.  While  he  had  incurred 
Sir  James's  stern  displeasure  because  of  his  in- 
discretion, he  had  also  won  his  highest  regard  and 
confidence  because  of  his  stubborn  refusal  to  di- 
vulge a  single  secret  through  the  whole  of  his 
agonized  sufferings. 

Now,  as  Zenas  patiently  maintained  his  post 
upon  the  top  of  the  boulder,  he  kept  up  an  al- 
most incessant  mumbling.  "I'll  keep  guard  over 
him,"  he  was  saying.  "Aye — I'll  see  that  no 
harm  comes  to  our  honorable  guest!"  whereupon 
he  would  smile  craftily  and  press  his  face  more 
closely  to  the  window.  "They  know  not — ha,  ha! 
not  one  of  them  hath  divined  that  it  was  I — I, 
Zenas,  the  detestable  hunchback,  who  put  the 
quietus  to  the  young  prince.  Slow  poison — 
that's  the  thing.  Slow  poison!  I'll  teach  them 
to  steal  from  me  the  affections  of  my  beloved  and 
noble  brother.  Zenas,  the  crookback,  will  teach 
them!  Slow  poison  put  an  end  to  the  last,  and 
now  'twill  be  Demon's  turn  to  finish  this  one.  At 

61 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

him,  good  Demon!  At  him.,  sir!"  he  concluded, 
with  a  sibilant  hiss  that  penetrated  every  corner 
of  the  interior  of  the  room. 

It  was  just  at  this  moment  that  Sir  Richard 
awakened  with  a  sudden  and  violent  start.  Dur- 
ing the  interval  of  several  seconds  he  remained 
in  a  sort  of  drowsy  stupor,  with  his  gaze  fixed 
upon  the  curling  flames.  Doubtless  from  that  in- 
stinct that  gives  warning  of  impending  peril,  he 
set  his  first  sentient  glance  upon  the  forbidding 
beast  lying  before  him  upon  the  hearth.  The 
hound's  red  eyeballs  were  glaring  straight  into 
his  own.  In  the  dim  firelight  he  could  see  that 
its  hair  was  bristling  over  its  entire  savage  body, 
and  that  slowly  and  with  deadly  menace  the  brute 
was  gathering  its  huge  paws  beneath  it  and  as- 
suming a  crouching  posture.  Feeling  certain 
that  the  slightest  perceptible  movement  upon  his 
part  would  precipitate  the  threatened  spring,  the 
young  knight's  fingers,  under  cover  of  the  table, 
crept  warily  toward  his  sword-hilt.  Distinctly  he 
could  hear  the  tap — tap — tapping  of  the  rain- 
drops as  they  splashed  upon  the  ground  from  off 
the  eaves.  What,  with  the  deathlike  quiet,  the 
red  eyeballs  and  gleaming  fangs  of  the  hound, 

62 


THE    WOLF-HOUND 

and  the  uncanniness  of  it  all,  it  is  a  matter  of 
wonderment  that  Sir  Richard  maintained  his 
faculties  to  the  degree  that  he  did. 

Inch  by  inch  his  hand  neared  the  familiar  point 
where  his  sword-hilt  should  have  been.  Groping 
beyond,  however,  it  encountered  but  an  empty 
scabbard.  His  blade  was  gone ! 

A  crooked  mouth  beneath  the  malevolent  eye 
at  the  window  smiled  exultingly. 

As  the  young  knight  started  in  a  maze  of  utter 
bewilderment  upon  discovering  his  loss,  the 
hound,  straight  and  true  as  an  arrow  sped  from 
a  cross-bow,  sprang  full  at  his  unprotected  throat. 
With  a  light  bound  Sir  Richard  gained  the  top 
of  the  bench,  and  the  powerful  jaws  of  the  blood- 
thirsty brute  closed  upon  his  greaves  at  the  pre- 
cise point  where  his  unprotected  throat  had  been 
but  the  instant  before.  It  had  been  a  right  lucky 
stroke  for  him  when  he  had  bestowed  a  second 
thought  to  the  matter  of  unlocking  his  stout  leg- 
pieces. 

Discovering  that  it  could  inflict  no  hurt  upon 
its  enemy  at  that  point,  and  not  fancying,  in  all 
likelihood,  the  grating  of  the  tough  steel  against 
its  teeth,  the  hound  released  its  hold,  gave  back, 

63 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

and  now,  with  jaws  afoam,  and  giving  tongue 
the  while  to  deep,  fierce  growls,  it  crouched  low 
upon  the  hearth  and  gathered  its  body  for  an- 
other spring.  By  this  time  Sir  Richard  was 
aware  of  the  circumstance  that  he  was  without  a 
weapon  of  any  description,  as  his  dagger  had 
been  removed  with  his  baldric,  which  had  evi- 
dently been  unbuckled  from  off  his  shoulder  dur- 
ing his  sleep.  Quick  as  a  flash  the  young  knight 
swept  up  one  of  his  heavy  metal  gauntlets  from 
off  the  top  of  the  table.  Again  good  fortune 
was  with  him,  for  it  turned  out  to  fit  upon  his 
right  hand.  It  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment  to 
adjust  it,  and  he  met  the  brute's  second  leap  with 
a  blow  set  fair  between  its  eyes  and  delivered  with 
every  ounce  of  weight  and  strength  at  his  com- 
mand. After  the  manner  of  a  doe  pierced 
through  by  a  shaft  in  mid-leap  the  hound  crashed 
lifeless  to  the  floor,  with  a  great  spout  of  blood 
issuing  from  its  mouth  and  nostrils. 

The  burning  eye  at  the  window  withdrew  its 
gaze.  The  crooked  lips,  so  lately  smiling,  were 
now  muttering  curse  upon  curse  to  the  sighing 
winds. 

"Hoa!  Well,  by  my  soul,  sir  knight!  I  am, 
64 


THE   WOLF-HOUND 

indeed,  happily  come  to  witness  a  blow  so  true 
and  mightily  delivered." 

The  voice  was  that  of  the  inn-keeper,  and 
sounded  out  of  the  darkness  beyond  the  semi- 
circle of  wavering  light  shed  by  the  now  expiring 
fire. 

As  Sir  Richard  leapt  from  off  the  bench  to  the 
floor,  Tyrrell  strode  into  the  zone  of  illumination 
and,  stooping,  hung  above  the  still  quivering 
body  of  the  dying  hound.  For  quite  a  space  he 
remained  thus,  as  though  graven  in  stone,  with 
the  gentle  raindrops  tap-tapping  outside  for  an 
accompaniment. 

"Knowest  thou,  sir  knight,"  he  observed  at 
length,  "that  thou  art  the  very  first  successfully 
to  withstand  the  onslaught  of  this  savage  brute?" 
Tyrrell  straightened  up,  folded  his  arms,  and 
touched  the  dead  hound  lightly  with  the  point  of 
his  foot.  "Methought,"  said  he,  "that  Demon 
was  the  nearest  thing  to  me  upon  earth,  and,  may- 
hap, the  dearest.  Like  me,  sir,  he  was  savage, 
cruel,  and  unrelenting ;  and,  like  me,  expatriated 
by  his  kind." 

The  deep  cadence  of  the  inn-keeper's  voice,  the 
knitting  of  his  brows,  and  a  slight,  mournful 

65 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

drooping  of  his  shoulders  betrayed  to  the  young 
knight  that  his  host  was  touched  with  a  genuine 
sorrow.  Filled  ever  with  a  generous-spirited 
goodwill,  he  felt  himself  entertaining  a  sense  of 
regret  for  the  deed  that  he  had  been  compelled 
to  do. 

"In  very  truth  it  grieves  me,"  said  he,  "that 
necessity  bade  me  to  set  a  period  to  a  lif  e  that  you 
held  so  precious.  I  can,  good  sir,  but  make  of- 
fering of  reparation  in  the  way  of  gold." 

Tyrrell  turned  toward  the  young  knight  and 
smiled  sadly. 

"Gold?"  he  softly  answered.  "It  doubts  me 
much  whether  all  the  gold  in  Christian  England 
could  salve  the  wound  made  by  the  death  of  this 
hound.  An  outcast,  sir  knight,  he  came  to  me, 
an  outcast.  I  took  him  in  and  suffered  him  to 
tarry  here  till  he  grew  kindred  to  my  every  wish, 
and  the  very  manner  of  my  likes  and  dislikes. 
As  I  am,  noble  sir,  he  was  a  bitter  misanthrope, 
and  would  permit  none,  besides  me,  to  approach 
him  but  Zenas,  my  unfortunate  brother."  He 
paused  in  his  speech,  regarding  Sir  Richard  in- 
tently. As  was  habitual  with  this  inimitable  con- 
spirator, he  was  but  playing  a  part.  If  he  had 

66 


THE   WOLF-HOUND 

it  in  mind  thereby  to  win  his  way  to  Sir 
Richard's  sympathies,  he  was  succeeding  admir- 
ably. 

"Whilst  thou  wert  sleeping,"  he  resumed  at 
the  proper  moment,  "I  caused  thy  sword  and 
baldric  to  be  removed,  so  that  thy  rest  might  for- 
sooth give  thee  a  greater  measure  of  comfort.  I 
likewise  laid  command  upon  Zenas  to  stand 
guard  over  thy  slumbers.  Much  sorrow  doth  it 
give  me  that  he  should  have  left  thee  without  the 
protection  of  his  presence  whilst  I  was  absent. 
But,  marry,  noble  knight,  the  deed  can  now  no 
more  be  recalled  than  can  the  sped  shaft  be  re- 
turned from  mid-flight  to  the  string." 

From  top  to  toe  Tyrrell  was  habited  in  somber 
black;  and,  as  he  talked,  his  lank  body  loomed 
anon  through  the  half -circle  of  flickering  light, 
and  then  would  be  blotted  out  in  the  deep 
shadows  beyond,  as  he  continued  to  pace  slowly 
back  and  forth  before  the  chimney.  To  the 
imaginative  Sir  Richard's  mind  it  recalled  a  play 
that  he  had  once  witnessed  with  Henry  and  his 
court  in  London.  In  it  there  had  been  an  actor 
who  had  affected  to  play  the  part  of  the  devil; 
and  who  had  appeared  suddenly,  and  then  as  sud- 

67 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

denly  vanished,  in  a  manner  designed  to  appear 
miraculous. 

"Though,  in  very  truth,"  decided  the  young 
knight,  "he  did  not  resemble  that  grisly  char- 
acter one  half  so  much  as  my  mysterious  land- 
lord." 

The  scene  in  which  Sir  Richard  was  playing 
an  involuntary  part  brought  back  to  him  the 
many  evil  tales  that  had  been  dinned  into  his  ears 
since  coming  to  Scotland  of  this  same  Red  Tav- 
ern, together  with  a  vivid  recollection  of  the 
reported  fate  of  the  unwary,  who,  through  any 
misadventure,  chanced  to  seek  the  hospitality  of 
its  shelter.  A  dozen  times  it  had  been  upon  the 
tip  of  his  tongue  to  make  mention  of  these  ru- 
mors, but  the  words  persisted  in  halting  upon  the 
threshold  of  utterance.  In  the  light  of  the  reality 
and  substance  of  his  surroundings  they  appeared 
as  nothing  more  than  weirdly  fantastic  creations, 
or  ridiculous  superstitions,  and  as  such  he  did  his 
utmost  to  dismiss  them  from  his  mind. 

He  was  just  meditating  some  appropriate  sub- 
ject of  conversation  by  which  the  prolonged  and 
somewhat  uncomfortable  silence  might  be  inter- 
rupted, when  the  hunchback  came  into  the  room, 

68 


THE   WOLF-HOUND 

bearing  upon  his  back  a  billet  of  wood  that  was 
vastly  greater  in  length  and  girth  than  he. 

"Dost  know,  Zenas,"  said  Tyrrell  sternly, 
"that  thou  hast  committed  a  most  grievous  fault 
in  not  remaining  to  stand  watch  over  our  honored 
guest?  Where  hast  thou  been?" 

"I  did  but  go  without  to  fetch  this  log.  The 
night  hath  grown  cold,  and  I  was  but  bethinking 
me  of  the  sir  knight's  comfort,"  Zenas  explained. 

"  'Tis  an  ill  excuse,  I  tell  thee,  Zenas.  Prithee 
bestow  the  log  upon  the  fire.  Then  bring  in  a 
torch,  and  a  mattock  and  spade.  We  will  bury 
at  once  the  body  of  yonder  hound." 

Arching  his  brows  the  dwarf  looked  toward 
his  brother,  toward  Richard,  and  then  upon  the 
body  of  the  hound. 

"But  he  does  but  sleep,  good  brother,"  he  said, 
depositing  the  log  amidst  a  shower  of  sparks 
within  the  fireplace. 

"Aye,  'tis  true  he  sleeps,"  replied  Tyrrell. 
"And  a  sleep,  Zenas,  from  which  none  shall  again 
awaken  him.  Our  good  knight  yonder  of  the 
wondrous  thews,  dealt  him  a  buffet  that  would 
have  felled  the  stoutest  ox  in  broad  Scotland. 
Methinks  it  might  e'en  have  staggered  a  Papist 

69 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

Bull,  with  such  a  hearty  goodwill  was  it  deliv- 
ered." 

Going  to  the  side  of  the  hound,  the  hunchback 
bent  above  it,  fondled  the  massive  head  and  shook 
the  fast  stiffening  paws.  Then,  with  a  furtive 
look  toward  his  brother,  who  happened  to  be  un- 
observant of  his  actions,  he  shot  a  black  look  of 
malignant  hate  in  Sir  Richard's  direction. 

"And  wilt  thou  suffer  this " 

With  a  finger  upon  his  lips  Tyrrell  warned 
Zenas  to  instant  silence.  Then,  leading  him  to- 
ward the  outer  door,  he  talked  earnestly  with  him 
for  several  minutes.  During  a  pause  in  their 
animated  conversation  the  hunchback  stooped  and 
peered  at  the  young  knight  in  something  of  an 
odd  manner.  Then,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoul- 
ders, he  took  his  way  without  further  ado  through 
the  door. 

In  a  little  while  he  returned,  carrying  a  gnarl 
of  pine  wood,  which  he  set  to  blazing  at  the  fire. 
Thus  did  Tyrrell,  in  a  most  respectful  manner, 
beg  Sir  Richard  to  carry,  whilst  he  and  Zenas,  he 
said,  would  drag  out  the  carcass  of  the  hound  and 
make  ready  its  grave. 

"  'Twould  be  better  that  thy  brother  should 
70 


THE    WOLF-HOUND 

bear  the  light,"  said  Sir  Richard.  "I'll  lend  thee 
a  hand  to  the  carrying  of  the  hound,  and  then 
wield  either  the  mattock  or  the  spade." 

"Tut,  tut!  Of  the  two,  dost  think  thou  art  the 
stronger?"  queried  the  hunchback  sharply,  ad- 
dressing himself  to  Sir  Richard  for  the  first  time. 
"Then,"  he  added,  "let  me  show  thee." 

Unceremoniously  thrusting  the  torch  within  the 
young  knight's  hand  he  lifted  a  heavy  iron  bar 
standing  against  the  chimney.  With  but  little 
more  effort,  apparently,  than  one  would  have  be- 
stowed upon  the  breaking  of  a  twig  he  thereupon 
bent  it  fair  double  across  his  knee.  Tossing  aside 
the  twisted  rod  he  looked  into  Sir  Richard's  eyes 
and  smiled.  Rather,  it  was  a  mirthless  leer,  cun- 
ning, cruel,  menacing.  The  young  knight  easily 
gathered  that  between  Zenas  and  himself  there 
remained  yet  an  unsettled  score. 

"Have  done  with  this  childish  vaunting  of  thy 
strength,"  said  Tyrrell.  "An  thou  wilt  but  ex- 
pend thy  energies  to  the  task  in  hand,  'twill  soon 
be  done." 

"But,  can  our  honored  guest  be  of  a  mind  to 
exchange  me  a  buffet,  good  my  brother,  I  should 
be  remiss  in  the  matter  of  common  courtesy  did 

71 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

I  not  stand  ready  to  favor  him,"  returned  Zenas. 

"Come,  come!"  impatiently  exclaimed  Tyrrell, 
allowing  Sir  Richard  no  opportunity  of  answer- 
ing the  implied  challenge.  "Let  us  have  done  at 
once  with  the  burial  of  poor  Demon." 

He  and  his  brother  then  led  the  way  outside, 
carrying  between  them  the  body  of  the  hound. 
Sir  Richard  followed  them  to  where  they  laid  it 
down  at  the  foot  of  the  jagged  rock  that,  in  the 
daylight,  could  be  seen  at  a  great  distance  along 
the  roadway.  By  this  hour  the  night  had  turned 
keen,  as  nights  are  wont  to  do  along  the  High- 
lands, and  as  he  stood  idly  by  watching  the  inn- 
keeper and  the  hunchback  busily  plying  spade 
and  mattock,  he  grew  uncomfortably  sensible  of 
the  increasing  cold,  which  seemed  to  set  its  chill 
touch  upon  his  very  bones. 

At  rare  intervals  the  pale  disc  of  the  moon 
could  be  vaguely  distinguished  when  one  of  the 
thinner  clouds  scudded  across  its  face.  But  when 
the  heavier  clouds  rolled  beneath  it,  the  land  was 
blotted  out  in  deepest  darkness,  which  the  splotch 
of  light  shed  by  the  wavering  torch  served  well 
to  accentuate. 

Fantastic  shadows  wove  themselves  about  the 
72 


THE    WOLF-HOUND 

grave-diggers'  feet.  These,  as  they  rippled 
away,  grew  to  tremendous  proportions  as  they 
merged  with  the  circle  of  gloom  that  hemmed 
them  in  after  the  manner  of  an  ebon  wall.  It  was 
during  this  dismal  half -hour,  more  than  ever 
after,  that  Sir  Richard  missed  the  jovial  com- 
panionship of  poor  Belwiggar.  The  thought 
came  to  him  that  he  was  a  being  apart,  who  had 
been  set  down  there  alone  in  a  mystic  environ- 
ment, and,  willy-nilly,  his  mind  again  became  ten- 
anted with  calamitous  forebodings.  He  fair 
ached  again  to  stretch  his  legs  before  the  fire, 
and  hailed  with  unmingled  delight  the  moment 
when  the  inn-keeper  and  his  brother  clambered 
from  out  the  grave  and  lowered  the  hound 
within. 

It  was  as  they  were  heaving  back  the  loosened 
earth  that  he  heard  a  faint,  clear  sound  steal  out 
upon  the  silence  of  the  night.  It  seemed  to  him 
as  the  sound  of  a  maiden's  voice  released  in  song. 
He  was  straining  eagerly  to  catch  the  next  sweet, 
quivering  note  when  Tyrrell's  deep  voice  broke 
suddenly  into  an  English  war  song,  and  with  a 
tuneful  lilt  that  came  far  from  appealing  un- 
pleasantly to  the  ear.  Moreover,  with  such  a 

73 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

hearty  goodwill  did  he  sing  it  that  the  echoes  of 
the  resonant  notes  were  flung  reverberating  far 
across  the  plain. 

So  unexpected  was  this  occurrence,  and  so  for- 
eign did  it  seem  to  the  inn-keeper's  melancholy 
character,  that  Sir  Richard  was  no  less  startled 
than  surprised.  When  the  young  knight  turned 
toward  his  host  he  discovered  that  grim  individual 
engaged  in  shoveling  great  clods  of  earth  into 
the  grave,  and  unconcernedly  timing  each  move- 
ment of  his  body  in  a  rhythmical  beat  with  his 
song. 

Not  until  the  last  bit  of  clay  had  been  firmly 
tamped  above  the  hound,  and  they  had  started 
for  the  tavern  door,  did  he  for  a  moment  relax 
his  stentorian  singing. 

"Didst  thou  not  hear  that  sound  as  of  a 
woman's  voice?"  Sir  Richard  made  bold  to  in- 
quire as  they  were  passing  indoors. 

"Not  I,"  Tyrrell  brusquely  replied.  "For 
long,  sir  knight,  my  ears  hath  grown  accustomed 
to  the  plaint  of  bird  and  beast,  and  the  shrieking 
of  the  wraiths  of  shipwrecked  mariners  along  the 
coast.  An  I  had  heard  a  sound,  I  should,  belike, 
have  attributed  it  to  one  of  these.  Zenas,"  he 

74 


THE    WOLF-HOUND 

pursued,  thus  dismissing  the  subject  of  the  young 
knight's  inquiry,  "look  well  to  our  guest's  steed 
for  the  night.  After  thou  hast  done,  return  and 
conduct  the  good  knight  to  his  bed." 

Turning  toward  Sir  Richard  as  the  hunchback 
took  himself  from  the  room,  Tyrrell,  linking 
within  the  young  knight's  arm  his  own,  led  him 
toward  the  comfortable  warmth  of  the  fire. 

"Thou  hast  marked,  I  know,  the  shattered 
form  of  my  brother,"  he  said  sadly,  as  they  seated 
themselves  together  beside  the  table.  "  'Tis  what 
remains  of  the  cursed  rack  and  wheel.  'Tis  near 
beyond  belief  that  Zenas  was  once  as  supple  and 
straight  as  either  thou  or  I.  And  this  good  body, 
too,  Sir  Richard"  (the  young  knight  started  at 
the  utterance  of  his  name),  "they  would  have 
drawn,  twisted  and  maimed  like  unto  his  had  I 
not  defeated  their  evil  purposes  by  fleeing  the 
borders  of  my  beloved  country.  God's  direst 
curse  rest  upon  them — dead  and  living — one  and 
all!"  He  paused  for  some  moments,  looking 
gloomily  into  the  fire.  "Most  humbly  do  I  crave 
thy  pardon  for  this  unseemly  display  of  emotion, 
sir  knight,"  he  added,  "and  permit  me  to  requite 
thy  forgiveness  by  setting  before  thee  another 

75 


stoup  of  wine.      'Twill  certes    not   come  amiss 
after  thy  prolonged  stay  in  the  crisp  air." 

He  arose  from  the  table  accordingly,  opened  a 
cupboard  upon  the  farther  side  of  the  chimney 
and  took  from  a  shelf  the  wine,  which  he  set  be- 
fore his  guest.  As  he  was  making  fast  the  door, 
Sir  Richard  noted  within  the  cupboard's  shadowy 
depths  the  bright  points  of  reflection  against 
pieces  of  steel  harness — swords,  battle-axes,  and 
shields. 

"No  doubt  thou  art  deliberating  now  within 
thy  mind,"  Tyrrell  resumed,  again  seating  him- 
self, "as  to  the  manner,  Sir  Richard,  in  which  I 
came  upon  thy  name?" 

Abruptly  pausing,  he  gazed  reflectively  for 
quite  a  space  upon  the  young  knight's  puzzled 
countenance. 

"Know  then,"  said  he,  "that  as  thou  wert  sleep- 
ing, thy  helmet  rested  there  upon  the  table.  The 
light  of  yon  blaze  shone  full  upon  thy  name  and 
thy  armorial  bearings,  which  thou  seest  fit  to 
carry  within  that  safe  receptacle." 

Sir  Richard  flushed  to  his  temples.  He  tried 
his  best,  despite  his  embarrassment,  to  answer  in 
an  indifferent  manner. 

76 


THE    WOLF-HOUND 

"Gramercy  for  thy  caution,  good  my  land- 
lord," he  returned,  with  a  careless  smile;  "and 
hereafter  I  shall  keep  that  receptacle  upon  my 
foolish  noddle,  where,  i'  faith,  'twill  be  safe  from 
prying  eyes." 

"From  me,  sir  knight,  thou  hast  no  cause  to 
fear,"  Tyrrell  hastened  to  assure  his  guest.  "It 
may  even  transpire  that  the  momentary  relaxa- 
tion of  thy  caution  hath  earned  for  thee  a  friend. 
Mayhap,  a  friend  in  need — who  knows?" 

"In  need  of  nothing  at  present  above  a  restful 
pillow,  a  roof,  and  a  bite  to  eat  before  I  fare 
away  in  the  morning,"  replied  Sir  Richard. 

"Ah — yea,  yea!  Art  thou  so  fortunate,  sir 
knight,  as  to  be  making  thy  lonely  pilgrimage 
upon  matters  of  state?  or  art  merely  seeking 
lightsome  pleasures,  as  is  the  manner  of  many  a 
young  court  buck?" 

"As  for  making  my  pilgrimage  alone,  sir,  'tis 
the  fault  of  an  evil  accident  that  befell  but  this 
very  day.  Till  he  was  foully  murdered  not  many 
leagues  from  here,  I  had,  for  attendant,  a  squire 
as  faithful  and  brave  as  any  in  England,  mauger 
the  fact  that  he  was  a  trifle  weak  at  sword-play. 
Give  him  in  hand  a  battle-axe,  though,  and  he 

77 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

would  have  cleaved  through  the  stoutest  wrought 
bonnet  in  all  Scotland.  Poor  Belwiggar!  God 
rest  his  bones,  say  I.  Concerning  thy  inquiry  as 
to  my  mission,  sir,  I  am  not  free  to  answer,"  con- 
cluded Sir  Richard. 

"Then,  an  it  be  not  a  further  dire  impertinence, 
good  sir  knight,"  persisted  Tyrrell,  "lesson  me 
from  whom  thou  hast  thy  cognizance?  Marry, 
I,  who  bethought  me  acquainted  with  every  scroll 
in  England,  know  thine  not  at  all." 

"From  whom  else  but  my  good  sovereign,"  Sir 
Richard  replied.  "By  his  royal  command  did  the 
College  of  Heralds  issue  it.  Thus  much  do  I 
please  to  tell  thee.  Of  my  parentage  I  can  les- 
son thee  naught.  My  progenitors  I  have  never 
seen,  never  known.  That  I  am  alive,  well,  and 
the  free  subject  of  a  generous  and  noble  king 
is  sufficient  for  me,  sir;  and,  by  my  good 
sword,  must  be  sufficient  for  all  to  whom  I  am 
known." 

"  'Tis  well  and  bravely  said,"  the  inn-keeper 
replied.  "But  more  upon  this  subject  at  a  later 
time,  my  dear  Sir  Richard.  The  night  doth  grow 
apace,  and  here  cometh  Zenas,  who  is  now  ready 
to  conduct  thee  to  thy  couch."  Upon  which  he 

78 


THE   WOLF-HOUND 

arose  and  bade  the  young  knight  a  kindly  and 
respectful  good-night. 

Bearing  a  rush-light,  the  hunchback  led  Sir 
Richard  up  a  narrow  stairway  to  a  room  immedi- 
ately above  the  one  he  had  just  quitted.  Bidding 
his  sour  visaged  guide  to  set  the  basin,  in  which 
burned  the  rush-light,  in  the  center  of  the  floor, 
he  bespoke  for  him  a  peaceful  rest  and  dismissed 
him  from  his  chamber.  Zenas,  answering  never  a 
word,  backed  toward  the  door.  Then,  from  its 
threshold,  he  dropped  a  curtsey  that  would  have 
made  a  fitting  obeisance  to  a  monarch,  after  which 
he  silently  took  himself  off. 

The  room  in  which  the  young  knight  now 
found  himself  was  of  an  ample  size,  but  exceed- 
ingly raw  and  cold,  as  no  fire  burned  within  the 
deep-throated  chimney.  The  four  walls  were 
roughly  coated  with  mortar.  The  rafters  over- 
head were  bare.  In  the  gloom  of  the  space  be- 
tween the  steep  gabled  roof  and  the  skeleton 
beams  he  could  hear  the  occasional  whirring  of 
a  bat's  wings,  as  it  darted  hither  and  thither  across 
the  room.  He  lost  precious  little  time  in  specu- 
lating upon  his  surroundings  and,  quickly  remov- 
ing his  steel  gear,  sought  the  comforts  of  the  bed, 

79 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

which  he  discovered,  with  much  inward  gratifica- 
tion, to  be  of  a  good  and  easeful  kind. 

A  few  vagrant  thoughts,  some  of  them  being 
of  the  wild  tales  he  had  heard  of  the  tavern 
wherein  he  was  now  tarrying,  flitted  vaguely 
across  his  mind.  Then,  very  soon  after  laying 
his  head  against  the  pillow,  he  sank  into  the  bliss- 
ful unconsciousness  of  sleep. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  INCIDENT  OF  THE  CUTTING  OF  SAFFRON 
VELVET 

THE  walls  of  the  room  adjoining  that  in 
which  Sir  Richard  was  now  sleeping 
framed  a  scene  that  provided  a  singular 
and  pleasing  contrast  to  the  bleak  and  uninviting 
rooms  within  the  tavern  with  which  the  reader  is 
already  somewhat  familiar.  So  beautifully,  and 
in  such  exquisite  taste  were  its  rich  trappings 
disposed,  that  a  princess  might  have  found  com- 
fort and  contentment  within  its  cosy  precincts. 
Indeed,  not  anything  seemed  to  be  missing  that 
could  have  been  demanded  in  the  surroundings 
of  the  most  refined  and  fastidious  of  royal  per- 
sonages. 

Upon  one  of  the  pillowed  couches  two  young 
maidens  were  reclining  gracefully  at  their  ease. 
One  was  lying  at  full  length  and  resting  upon 
her  elbows,  with  her  chin  pressed  against  her  in- 

81 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

terlocked  fingers;  the  other  was  engaged  with 
needles  and  some  bright  colored  silk  in  weaving 
a  design  upon  a  piece  of  linen  cloth.  Without 
risking  hyperbole  it  may  be  said  of  them  that  the 
jewels  they  wore  were  scarce  an  adornment  to 
their  distinguished  setting,  for  it  would  have 
offered  a  difficult  task  to  have  set  out  to  discover 
two  lovelier  types  of  young  womanhood.  It  was 
unusual  in  that  between  them  there  existed  no 
conflict  of  beauty;  rather  did  the  bewitching 
charms  of  the  one  serve  the  complimentary  pur- 
pose of  enhancing  the  pure  and  almost  ethereal 
comeliness  of  the  other. 

"It  would  surely  be  a  famous  prank,  Rocelia," 
said  the  one  who  was  lounging  upon  her  elbows. 
"I  cannot  understand  why  you  should  oppose  me. 
Are  we  not  come  to  an  age,  my  over-discreet 
cousin,  where  a  champion  should  be  ours  by 
right?" 

"By  right  of  what,  pray,  madcap  Isabel?" 
queried  Rocelia,  laying  aside  her  needlework 
upon  a  table  that  stood  near  the  couch. 

"Why — by  right  of  conquest,  little  dunce,"  re- 
turned Isabel  with  a  gay  laugh.  "Here  does  my 
stern  guardian — and  by  the  same  token  your  im- 

82 


SAFFRON  VELVET 

placable  father — see  fit  to  keep  us  mewed  within 
this  dismal,  fly-by-night  prison,  deprived  of 
every  pleasure  and  innocent  pastime  that  other 
maids,  similarly  stationed,  are  permitted  to  en- 
joy. I  tell  you,  sweet  Rocelia,  'tis  nothing  less 
than  downright  cruel." 

"Say  not  so,  ungracious  maid,"  observed  Ro- 
celia in  mild  disapproval.  "Are  we  not  sur- 
rounded with  everything,  my  dear,  that  heart  of 
maid  could  wish?" 

"Everything,  say  you?  Why — far,  far  from 
everything,"  demurred  Isabel,  tossing  back  a 
strand  of  raven  black  hair  that  persisted  in  stray- 
ing over  her  shoulder.  "A  champion!  Give  to 
me  a  champion!"  she  cried  with  a  mock  serious- 
ness, raising  on  high  her  right  arm,  from  which 
her  loose  robe  fell,  displaying  a  dazzling  array 
of  captivating  curves  and  dimples. 

Rocelia  smiled  in  a  gentle  toleration  of  the 
other's  extravagance  of  manner. 

"Your  wondrous  beauty,  my  dear  cousin,"  she 
said,  "will  win  for  you  a  champion  all  in  good 
time." 

"Time?"  retorted  Isabel,  gathering  her  lips  in 
a  pretty  pout  and  arching  her  brows.  "Time, 

83 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

say  you?  And  what,  I  pray  you,  have  we  to  do 
with  time?  Does  not  time  fade  and  wither  that 
beauty  by  which,  but  a  moment  ago,  you  have 
recommended  to  me  a  champion?  Is  not  time  our 
mortal  and  deadly  foe?" 

"Too  much  of  it,  mayhap,  would  be,"  admitted 
Rocelia;  "but  a  little  of  it  should  serve  well  in 
rounding  out  our  minds,  and  in  providing  us 
with  that  sane  discretion  which,  as  you  remember, 
Lord  Bishop  Kennedy,  our  kind  tutor,  has  taught 
us  is  the  most  precious  of  earthly  perquisites." 

"Bah!  a  murrain  upon  Bishop  Kennedy  and 
his  dry  pedantries.  An  I  had  that  old  prate- 
apace  inside  an  oven,  right  well  would  I  warm 
his  icy  blood  for  him.  Look  not  upon  me,  sweet 
coz,  with  such  wideopen  eyes  of  ravished  virtue! 
I  declare  to  you,  Rocelia,  I'll  have  me  a  champion 
— and  before  this  very  night  is  over.  You  could 
never  divine,  I'm  sure,  why  I  begged  you  awhile 
ago  to  sing  without  yon  open  window.  Of  a 
truth,  you  knew  not,  or  your  voice  would  never 
have  left  your  throat.  It  was  vicariously  to  be- 
guile my  brave  champion's  ears  that  you  were 
singing  so  sweetly,  dear.  He  was  then  outside 
with  your  father  and  Zenas  burying  the  hound. 

84 


SAFFRON  VELVET 

Ah!  you  should  have  seen  him  fell  the  savage 
brute,  Rocelia.  A  single  mighty  blow  of  his 
mailed  fist  and  'twas  all  over." 

"Were  you  not  afraid?  'Twould  have  fared  ill 
with  you,  an  Father  had  seen  you  standing  at 
the  tap-room  door." 

Nay — I  was  not  afraid.  Your  father  was  in 
another  room  with  the  men.  Zenas  had  gone  out- 
side. I  heard  him  go  muttering  through  the  door 
as  I  crept  softly  down  the  steps.  I  peeped 
through  the  split  panel — my  champion  was  there 
.  .  .  sleeping.  But,  already  have  I  told  you  the 
story.  Ah!  how  brave  was  he.  Not  once  did  he 
flinch  the  battle,  or  look  about  him,  or  call  for 
help.  And  he  is  handsome ;  marry,  sweet  coz,  but 
he  is  handsome!  All  girded  up  in  shining,  in- 
laid armor.  His  brown-gold  hair  flowing  almost 
to  his  shoulders.  His  health-bronzed  cheeks 
smooth  and  shapely.  And  his  mouth !  Um-m-m ! 
Well " 

"Why,  cousin!  some  wicked  witch  has  cast  a 
spell  above  you,  I  fear." 

"Nay — 'tis  not  witchery,  sweetest  Rocelia," 
said  Isabel,  seating  herself  beside  her  fair-haired 
cousin  and  lovingly  entwining  her  arms  about  her 

85 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

slender  form.  "I  am  but  filled  to  overflowing 
with  the  joy  of  living.  A  something  of  excite- 
ment is  both  sup  and  drink  to  me.  Now  listen. 
Bear  with  your  madcap  cousin  whilst  she  dis- 
courses with  you  in  deepest  earnest.  A  champion 
I  must  and  will  have.  But  he  need  not  know  me, 
or  even  look  upon  my  face." 

"I  cannot  understand.  You  are  speaking  in 
riddles,  Isabel." 

"Nay,  give  ear  till  I've  finished  and  you  shall 
see  it  plain  enough.  My  knight  of  the  brown- 
gold  curls,  an  I  mistake  me  not,  is  even  at  this 
moment  slumbering  within  the  next  chamber. 
With  a  bodkin  a  cleft  in  the  wall  can  be  used  as 
a  slight  avenue  of  secret  communication.  Then 
a  missive,  and  a  bit  of  cloth  clipped  from  my — 
no  yours,  'tis  of  a  more  enticing  color — your  saf- 
fron gown,  I'll  say,  dear  cousin;  and  thus  I  have 
my  champion  and  no  soul  but  you  and  I  the  wiser. 
Do  not  say  me  nay,  good,  generous  Rocelia.  It 
will  be  a  right  merry  and  harmless  frolic,  think 
you  not?" 

'T would  be  a  sorry  one  for  you,  I  fear,  an 
my  father  found  you  out,"  replied  Rocelia,  half 
in  jest,  half  earnestly. 

86 


SAFFRON  VELVET 

"Enough.  Let  the  hazard  be  mine,  sweet. 
And  now  to  business.  Whilst  I  am  at  work  with 
the  bodkin,  do  you  shear  me  a  strip  from  off  your 
saffron  velvet  kirtle." 

Sir  Richard,  sleeping  soundly,  was  all  uncon- 
scious of  the  widely  varying  activities  of  which 
he  was  now  become  the  center.  Beneath  the  room 
in  which  Isabel,  now  singing,  now  laughing,  was 
engaged  upon  the  wall,  Friar  Diomed  had  fin- 
ished brewing  and  mixing  the  herbs  and  chemi- 
cals of  his  narcotic. 

"My  oath  on  't,  Friar  Diomed,"  Tyrrell  was 
saying  from  his  seat  beside  the  fire,  "your 
cloth  shall  not  save  your  shaven  pate,  an  this 
potion  bring  one  jot  of  harm  to  the  young 
noble." 

"An  it  be  administered  with  your  usual  skill 
and  caution,  Sir  James,"  returned  the  monk,  ele- 
vating a  phial  filled  with  the  liquid  between  his 
squinting  eyes  and  the  light  of  the  fire,  "  'twill 
bring  no  more  harm  than  so  much  aqua  pura. 
But,  by  my  church !  'tis  beside  my  understanding 
why  you  must  observe  all  of  these  dark  ceremo- 
nies. Let  the  young  knight  but  read  the  King's 

87 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

warrant  in  his  slop  pouch,  an  he  were  a  long- 
eared  ass  not  to  embrace  our  cause." 

"Have  I  not  already  said,  my  stupid  friend, 
that  he  would  at  once  charge  us  with  substitution 
and  false  writing?  Think  you  not  that  the  young 
noble  hath  heard  a  many  an  evil  tale  of  this  tavern 
along  the  way?  Marry,  an  he  had  not,  all  our 
trouble  and  precaution  to  shield  the  young  prince 
from  discovery  and  harm  would  have  been  but  of 
slight  avail.  But  only  once  again,  good  friar, 
need  this  phantom  inn  disappear,  and  then  'twill 
serve  as  a  blazing  torch  to  light  the  start  of  our 
movement  southward." 

"Pity  'tis  that  the  young  prince  died,"  observed 
the  monk,  giving  the  phial  into  Tyrrell's  hand 
and  standing  with  his  broad  back  to  the  blaze. 
"And  just  at  the  point,  too,  when  you  had 
gathered  a  sufficient  power  to  hurl  effectively 
against  Henry.  So  fire  shall  consume  our 
refuge,  you  say?  Well,  Sir  James,  ab  igne 
ignem,  say  I." 

"Yea,  and  I.  But  regarding  the  young  prince, 
regret  not  that  which  is  beyond  mending.  In 
truth,  Friar  Diomed,  I  like  this  young  Earl  of 
Warwick  mightily.  He's  a  right  goodly  youth  to 

88 


SAFFRON  VELVET 

look  upon,  and  brave — aye,  as  fearless  as  a  lion 
cub.  Nay — let  us  not  regret,  but  rather  return 
thanks  to  a  generous  God  for  having  thus 
dropped  down  upon  us  a  proper  and  legal  sub- 
stitute." 

"An  you'll  be  good  enough  to  bid  Zenas  to 
bring  out  the  flagons,  Sir  James,  I'll  e'en  now 
down  a  measure  or  twain  to  the  health  of  the 
new.  Which  is  more  to  my  liking,  by  my  Faith, 
than  the  uplifting  of  mere  dry  thanks.  Ad  ma- 
jorem  Dei  gloriam!  'Twill  be  a  good  hour  ere 
de  Claverlok  and  his  band  return,  and  I  am  griev- 
ously athirst  and,  ah-ha-ha,  ho-e-e,  sleepy." 

"Then  why  not  call  your  drink  night-cup  and 
betake  yourself  to  your  couch?  'Tis  not  neces- 
sary that  you  should  remain  abroad  to  await  their 
coming.  Zenas,  the  flagon  of  wine,"  Tyrrell  then 
called.  "Drink,  and  to  your  rest,  my  good  friar. 
Yea — the  blessed  pair  of  you." 

Whereupon,  with  a  loud  smacking  of  his  lips, 
the  rotund  friar  introduced  his  red  and  bulbous 
nose  within  his  tipped  cup  and  made  for  his 
couch.  Zenas  followed  him,  leaving  Tyrrell  to 
keep  solitary  vigil  by  the  side  of  the  crackling 
fire,  and  all  unaware  of  the  little  comedy  which, 

89 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

at  that  very  moment,  was  being  enacted  above  his 
head. 

For  the  second  time  that  night  Sir  Richard 
awakened  with  a  violent  start.  Upon  doing  so 
he  raised  his  head  from  off  his  pillow.  Hearing 
no  sound,  however,  he  attributed  this  second 
awakening  to  a  fanciful  dream  of  a  ponderous 
battle-ax  striking  upon  his  helm,  and  had  just 
composed  himself  for  the  purpose  of  resuming 
his  interrupted  rest  when  he  became  aware  of  a 
distinct  rapping  upon  the  headboard  of  his  bed. 
As  he  threw  aside  the  covering  and  sat  erect  the 
strange  tapping  ceased.  With  every  sense  upon 
the  alert  he  listened  for  a  repetition  of  the  sound. 
It  came  soon  again,  distinct,  deliberate,  unmis- 
takable. He  passed  his  hand  carefully  over  the 
smooth  headboard,  but  went  altogether  unre- 
warded for  his  pains.  Concluding,  therefore, 
that  the  sounds  emanated  from  between  the  wall 
and  the  bed,  he  sprang  to  the  floor  and  pulled 
aside  the  heavy  piece  of  furniture. 

The  inexplicable  rapping  was  then  followed  by 
a  dry,  scraping  noise,  which  seemed  almost  im- 
possible to  locate.  The  room  being  cast  in  utter 

90 


SAFFRON   VELVET 

darkness,  his  sense  of  touch  was  required  to  an- 
swer for  his  useless  sense  of  sight.  In  the  passing 
of  his  hand  along  the  wall  it  met  with  a  slight 
protuberance.  This  he  instantly  grasped,  and  a 
part  of  it  came  away  within  his  clutched  fingers. 
He  discovered  it  to  be  a  wisp  of  paper,  neatly 
rolled,  and  surmised  it  to  be  a  written  message. 
By  the  side  of  the  basin  upon  the  floor  he  found 
tinder,  flint,  and  steel.  Contriving  speedily  to 
have  a  light,  he  thereupon  read  the  following 
message : 

"Whoever  or  whatever  thou  art,  an 
semblance  of  heart  of  man  beats  within 
thy  brave  bosom,  rescue  a  maiden  from 
a  living  death." 

This  was  the  message  from  Isabel.  She  had 
been  careful  to  sign  no  name,  and  Sir  Richard 
had  no  means  of  knowing  by  whom  it  had  been 
inscribed.  But,  even  so,  he  was  entirely  equal  to 
the  occasion,  and  felt  his  heart  leaping  in  deepest 
sympathy  with  the  unknown  maiden  in  distress. 
So,  then  and  there,  upon  the  cross  of  his  sword, 
he  made  a  sacred  vow  to  adventure  her  rescue, 
repeating  in  a  solemn  manner  the  usual  form  of 
oath:  "So  may  God  and  St.  George  prosper  me 

91 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

at  my  need,  as  I  will  do  my  devoir  as  thy  cham- 
pion, fair  maid,  knightly,  truly,  and  manfully." 

This  ceremony  concluded,  he  hurried  again  to 
the  wall.  Protruding  from  a  narrow  aperture  in 
the  mortar  he  noted  a  thin  piece  of  steel,  such  as 
he  fancied  was  used  by  women  in  the  shaping  of 
their  apparel.  Upon  withdrawing  it,  he  discov- 
ered it  to  be  of  about  a  length  with  his  forearm. 

Then,  placing  his  lips  to  the  opening  thus  dis- 
closed, "Courage,  fair  maiden,"  he  whispered. 
"An  wilt  thou  grant  the  boon  of  sending  a  most 
willing  champion  thy  colors?" 

"Yea,  gladly,"  came  back  the  answer,  sweet 
and  low;  "and  a  kiss,  too,  my  brave  knight." 

"Ye  gods  of  Love!"  exclaimed  Sir  Richard  be- 
neath his  breath.  "The  very  yearnings  of  Tan- 
talus are  at  this  moment  put  to  the  blush!  Was 
ever  a  champion  avowed  under  like  romantic  cir- 
cumstances? Was  ever  a  maiden  wooed  through 
a  two-foot,  key-cold  wall?" 

He  then  sent  the  pliant  steel  back  through  the 
wall,  which  he  erroneously  supposed  to  be  con- 
structed out  of  solid  stone.  In  another  moment 
there  came  to  his  impatiently  waiting  hand  a  very 
small  cutting  of  saffron  velvet,  the  which  he 

92 


SAFFRON  VELVET 

touched  reverently  to  his  lips,  as  was  becoming 
in  a  loyal  champion,  and  then  placed  devoutly 
next  his  heart. 

He  whispered  again,  and  again  he  whispered, 
but  no  answer  came.  Observing  the  precaution 
of  scraping  away  a  bit  of  mortar  from  another 
wall,  he  carefully  concealed  the  opening.  Upon 
which  he  replaced  the  bed  in  its  former  position, 
secured  the  note  within  the  fillet  of  his  helmet 
and  once  more  sought  his  pillow,  where  he  fell 
asleep  presently  in  the  midst  of  meditating  as  to 
the  means  through  which  he  might,  in  safety  to 
her,  effect  the  deliverance  of  the  fair  unknown. 

Yet  not  half  so  fair,  nor  yet  half  so  lovely,  was 
the  vision  that  he  materialized  from  the  scrap  of 
saffron  velvet  as  was  its  beautiful  owner,  whom 
an  unkind  Fate  decreed  he  should  not  set  eyes 
upon  till  many  days  crowded  with  many  misad- 
ventures had  passed  away. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE  PAVILION  OF  PURPLE  AND  BLACK 

IT  was  a  trifle  past  midnight  when  de  Claver- 
lok  and  the  men  he  had  commissioned  to 
bring  with  him  halted  in  the  highroad  be- 
fore the  door  of  the  Red  Tavern.  Coincident  with 
their  arrival  the  hitherto  deserted  and  lonely  ap- 
pearing hostelry  was  magically  metamorphosed 
into  a  hive  of  buzzing  industry.  The  near  vi- 
cinity of  the  building  became  brilliantly  illumi- 
nated with  the  flare  of  many  links,  the  iron  pikes 
of  which  had  been  struck  into  the  earth  from  the 
roadway  to  the  entrance  of  the  inn.  That  the 
scene  was  one  of  martial  activities  could  in  no 
wise  be  mistaken,  for  the  yellow  light  of  the 
torches  was  reflected  and  repeated  against  a 
goodly  number  of  steel  cuirasses  and  polished 
bucklers. 

Beside  Tyrrell,  near  the  doorway,  stood  a  thin 
and  rather  under-sized  man,  wearing  an  intri- 

94 


THE   PAVILION 

cately  plaited  coat  of  light  chain  mail,  over  which 
was  drawn  a  white  linen  tunic,  with  a  crimson 
Maltese  cross  emblazoned  upon  the  breast,  after 
the  fashion  of  the  ancient  Crusaders.  This  indi- 
vidual, conspicuous  alone  because  of  the  sim- 
plicity of  his  dress  when  contrasted  with  those 
about  him,  was  the  famed  diplomatist,  warrior, 
statesman,  shrewd  conspirator,  and  eminent 
churchman,  Lord  Bishop  Kennedy,  to  whom 
Tyrrell  looked  ever  for  council  and  advice,  and 
who,  in  reality,  had  been  the  brains  and  backbone 
of  the  movement  that  had  been  designed  to  set 
the  youthful  Duke  of  York  upon  the  throne  of 
England.  Here  was  a  man  possessing  that 
strength  of  character  that  permitted  him  to  re- 
main always  in  the  background.  From  whence 
he  was  wont  to  view  the  vast  schemes  in  which  he 
became  involved  as  a  whole,  much  as  the  success- 
ful general  might  select  a  high  eminence  from 
which  to  overlook  and  direct  the  maneuvres  of 
his  army.  While  indolence  was  at  times  attrib- 
uted to  him,  on  account  of  a  certain  reserve  and 
unobtrusiveness  of  manner,  to  those  who  knew 
him  well  he  was  known  to  be  indef  atigably  ener- 
getic. It  was  said  of  him,  indeed,  that  he  never 

95 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

slept,  saving  with  an  open  eye  to  his  tent-flap,  or 
doorway.  In  Sir  James  Tyrrell,  Bishop  Ken- 
nedy had  achieved  a  notably  brilliant  confederate 
— a  man  of  ideas,  a  born  inventor,  but  visionary 
to  a  perilous  degree.  Tyrrell  was  not  suffered 
to  be  awakened  out  of  his  dream  that  he  was  the 
real  leader ;  though,  in  point  of  truth,  he  was  but 
nominally  such.  If,  however,  the  block  were  to 
claim  its  tithe  of  vengeance,  Tyrrell's  head,  and 
not  Lord  Kennedy's,  would  have  been  among 
those  selected.  Kennedy  regarded  politics  as  he 
did  a  game  of  chess,  and  was  marvelously  pro- 
ficient in  playing  both.  "A  knight,  or  even  a 
despised  pawn,"  he  was  known  to  have  said,  "may 
say  'check'  to  a  king,  but  it  is  a  wise  precaution 
to  have  a  bishop  stationed  on  the  long  diagonal." 

"Thou  art  certain  beyond  all  peradventure," 
he  was  saying  to  Tyrrell,  "that  thou  canst  not  be 
mistaken  as  to  the  identity  of  thy  find?" 

"Aye — marry,  am  I,  my  lord,"  Tyrrell  con- 
fidently replied.  "I  could  scarce  be  amiss  in 
my  recognition  of  the  unusual  birthmark.  Be- 
sides, good  bishop,  did  not  the  youth  make  con- 
fession of  his  lack  of  knowledge  of  his  progeni- 
tors?" 

96 


THE   PAVILION 

"Yea.  But  'tis  a  common  ignorance — that, 
friend  Tyrrell.  Of  a  truth,  the  stroke  seemeth 
too  timely  and  well-favored  to  be  genuine,"  said 
'Kennedy,  who  was  never  ready  to  accept  the 
semblance  of  a  fact  for  the  fact  itself.  "Here 
hath  the  earth  had  scarce  time  to  grow  cold  above 
the  young  duke,  when  up  crops  another  candi- 
date every  whit  as  legitimate  and  proper. 
'T would  appear,  my  friend,  as  though  an  incipi- 
ent monarch  were  being  reared  in  every  wayside 
hovel.  Yet — as  thou  hast  said — thou  couldst 
scarce  have  been  mistaken  in  the  birthmark.  If 
proven  true,  'tis  indeed  a  most  providential  stroke. 
But  this  very  day  have  I  learned  that  Lord 
Douglas  is  meditating  a  move  like  unto  thine. 
Already  have  I  laid  plans  to  gather  more  in- 
timate particulars — for  thy  express  benefit,  un- 
derstand me.  But  I  can  lesson  thee  now  that 
some  hint  of  the  young  prince's  existence  and 
death  hath  flown  into  his  yawning  ear.  Keep  a 
firm  hold  upon  thy  wits  and  tongue,  for  there  is 
surely  a  traitor  abroad,  Sir  James.  More;  I  have 
it  that  Douglas  doth  lay  open  claim  to  the  pos- 
session of  the  living  person  of  the  genuine  heir, 
and  that  there  is  now  a  gathering  of  the  clans 

97 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

for  the  purpose  of  raising  the  counterfeit  claim- 
ant to  the  throne.  Emissaries  from  Castle  Yewe 
will  come  here  to  treat  with  thee  for  the  combin- 
ing of  thy  forces  with  Douglas's.  An  this  youth 
of  thine  be  indeed  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  son  of 
George,  Duke  of  Clarence,  thou  canst  laugh  in 
Douglas's  teeth.  An  it  were  not  so,  friend  Tyr- 
rell, thou  couldst  do  naught  wiser  than  amalga- 
mate issues.  For  thy  life  would  be  worth  no 
more  than  a  leaden  farthing  from  the  fury  of 
thine  own  troop,  an  they  were  to  be  disbanded 
without  chance  of  giving  battle  to  Henry." 

At  this  juncture  four  men  drew  beside  the 
speakers,  through  the  door,  carrying  Sir  Richard, 
who  had  been  rendered  unconscious  through  the 
medium  of  Friar  Diomed's  narcotic.  As  gently 
as  their  rough  hands  could  accomplish  it,  the 
young  knight  was  placed  in  the  covered  litter, 
which  had  been  standing  along  the  highway 
awaiting  his  reception. 

"I  beg  of  thee,  Sir  James,"  said  Lord  Ken- 
nedy then,  "procure  for  me  from  this  young 
knight's  wallet  the  warrant  of  which  thou  wert 
speaking.  I  would  I  might  know  well  its  con- 
tents." The  keen  politician  might  easily  have 

98 


THE   PAVILION 

taken  it  himself,  as  it  was  his  intention  to  travel 
northward  with  the  horsemen  and  litter-bearers, 
but  he  desired  to  assure  himself  that  the  docu- 
ment would  not  remain  behind  in  Tyrrell's  keep- 
ing. The  time  was  likely  to  come  when  this  piece 
of  parchment  would  be  an  invaluable  political 
perquisite. 

When  the  warrant  had  been  secured  and  sur- 
rendered into  his  hands,  Bishop  Kennedy  made 
quick  work  of  breaking  the  seal  that  Tyrrell  had 
so  deftly  mended.  By  the  light  of  one  of  the 
links  he  read  it  slowly  through,  nodding  his  head 
the  while. 

"  'Tis  well,"  he  said  when  he  had  finished;  "and 
I  doff  my  bonnet  to  thee,  Sir  James,  for  a  most 
fortunate  and  successful  general." 

Whereupon  he  folded  up  the  parchment  and 
thrust  it  carelessly  within  his  bosom.  Then, 
grasping  Tyrrell's  hand,  he  bade  him  adieu, 
swung  himself  upon  his  horse  and  started  in  the 
train  of  the  cavalcade,  which  had  already  begun 
its  march  from  the  inn. 

In  the  light  of  the  single  torch  remaining,  Tyr- 
rell stood  beside  the  door  till  the  noise  of  the  mov- 
ing company  had  dwindled  to  silence  in  the  dis- 

99 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

tance,  after  which  he  extinguished  the  blazing 
link  and  disappeared  within  the  lonely  tavern. 

It  was  nearing  daybreak  when  the  cavalcade, 
led  by  de  Claverlok  and  Lord  Bishop  Kennedy, 
filed  past  the  sentinel  outposts  within  the  area  of 
the  encampment.  The  bivouac  had  been  set  along 
the  shore,  within  sight  and  sound  of  the  sea,  and 
not  above  a  dozen  miles  from  the  Red  Tavern; 
but,  because  of  the  litter-bearers,  the  men  had 
been  put  to  the  necessity  of  moving  in  a  slow 
and  deliberate  manner,  which  fact  accounted  for 
their  tardy  progress  in  effecting  the  distance. 

As  Sir  Lionel  de  Claverlok  is  destined  to  play 
a  most  important  part  in  this  narrative  of  tangled 
conspiracies,  it  would  doubtless  be  well  now  to 
introduce  him  to  the  reader. 

To  begin  with,  he  was  a  man  who  was  loved 
and  admired  by  his  enemies,  which,  though  it  may 
appear  anomalous,  was  nevertheless  true.  He 
was  as  refreshing  as  a  shower  in  spring ;  as  open 
in  his  manner  as  a  wind-swept  plain.  Saving  in 
the  arts  of  warfare,  however,  of  all  of  which  he 
had  proven  himself  to  be  a  surpassing  master, 
he  was  uneducated.  Every  rugged  feature  dis- 
played between  the  shaggy  thatch  of  his  wiry, 

100 


THE   PAVILION 

silver-shot  hair,  and  the  thick  tangle  of  his  dis- 
ordered, curly  beard  bespoke  at  once  the  good 
fellow  and  indomitable  warrior.  Whilst,  intui- 
tively, one  would  take  him  for  a  person  of  gentje 
extraction,  there  was  about  him  little,  if  anything, 
of  the  polished  courtier.  He  had  been  too  in- 
dustriously engaged  upon  the  business  of  his  life, 
which  was  to  conquer  a  complete  understanding 
of  war-craft,  to  yield  thought  or  time  to  the  cul- 
tivation of  the  softer  attainments  of  the  court 
gallant.  As  to  his  physical  attributes,  he  was 
stockily  set  up,  not  above  the  average  in  height, 
and  in  the  noontide  of  a  vigorous  and  healthful 
manhood. 

"Men,"  said  Bishop  Kennedy  as  he  drew  up 
before  his  tent,  "raise  me  the  silken  pavilion  of 
purple  and  black  upon  yonder  hill.  When  thou 
hast  done,  set  up  the  bed  thou  didst  bring  with 
thee,  and  dispose  the  young  knight,  now  asleep 
in  the  litter,  within.  Bid  the  Renegade  Duke  to 
set  a  close  guard  above  his  slumbers.  Haste  thee, 
go !"  Then,  turning  to  de  Claverlok,  "attend  me 
within  my  tent,  Sir  Lionel,"  he  added,  "I  would 
have  a  moment's  speech  of  thee." 

Whereupon  they  dismounted,  gave  their  horses 
101 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

into  the  charge  of  waiting  equerries  and  went  in- 
side. 

"This  fanciful  plan  of  our  dreamy  friend  of 
the  flying  inn,"  he  pursued  when  they  had  seated 
themselves,  "to  keep  the  Earl  of  Warwick  in  the 
grip  of  Friar  Diomed's  decoction  is  both  imprac- 
ticable and  dangerous.  'Twould  be  a  good  three 
days  ere  he  could  be  brought  to  our  main  strong- 
hold in  the  mountains."  So  saying,  he  took  from 
his  wallet  the  phial  that  Tyrrell  had  entrusted  to 
his  keeping  and  emptied  its  sparkling  contents 
upon  the  ground. 

"I  would,  my  lord,"  said  de  Claverlok  soberly, 
"that  I  could  pour  a  phial  of  it  within  my  tent — 
eh!  Mayhap  'twould  put  the  blessed  ants  to 
sleep,  and  keep  them  from  crawling  beneath  my 
gorget  .  .  .  eh!" 

Bishop  Kennedy  acknowledged  the  grizzled 
knight's  sally  with  a  mere  suspicion  of  a  smile. 

"Lay  our  commands  upon  the  Renegade 
Duke,"  he  pursued,  "that  he  shall  permit  the 
prisoner,  for  as  such  we  must  for  the  present  re- 
gard him,  to  rest  till  such  time  as  he  may  natural- 
ly awaken  from  his  stupor.  I  desire,  de  Claver- 
lok, that  thou  shalt  say  but  little  to  the  duke  of 

102 


THE   PAVILION 

the  haps  of  this  night.  By  all  means,  keep  from 
his  knowledge  the  identity  of  the  young  earl.  My 
reasons  for  this  are  most  urgent,  I  would  have 
thee  to  know.  Meanwhile,  keep  a  close  eye  to  the 
prisoner  thyself.  We  may  deem  it  expedient 
later  to  give  him  wholly  into  thy  charge.  And 
now,  good  sir,  to  thy  cot — and  may  pleasing  vis- 
ions await  thee  there." 

When  de  Claverlok  issued  from  Lord  Ken- 
nedy's tent  he  glanced  upward  toward  the  knoll 
whereupon  the  folds  of  the  purple  and  black 
pavilion  were  billowing  gracefully  in  the  crisp 
morning  air.  Betaking  himself  up  the  slope,  he 
waited  there  till  the  unconscious  Sir  Richard  had 
been  comfortably  disposed  beneath  its  silken 
roof,  the  same,  by  the  way,  which  had  been  in- 
tended as  a  covering  for  the  dead  prince. 

Then,  when  he  had  done  with  appointing  and 
setting  the  guard,  the  grizzled  warrior  made  in 
the  direction  of  the  renegade  duke's  tent  for  the 
purpose  of  imparting  to  him  Lord  Kennedy's  in- 
structions. 


CHAPTER   VII 

OF  THE  AWAKENING  OF  SIR  RICHARD 

THE  sun  was  hanging  high  above  the  sea 
ere  the  young  knight  in  the  pavilion  upon 
the  hill  began  to  arouse  himself  from  his 
profound  stupor.  Being  of  a  healthful  body  it 
was  his  usual  habit  to  start  into  broad  wakeful- 
ness,  with  every  faculty  alive,  equally  upon  the 
alert,  and  ready  upon  the  instant  for  the  work  or 
pleasure  that  chanced  to  be  forward  for  the  day. 
So,  in  this  instance,  he  was  wholly  unable  to  ac- 
count for  an  extreme  heaviness  of  the  eyelids, 
combined  with  a  sense  of  oppression  that  weighed 
painfully  upon  his  chest.  He  grew  conscious  of 
a  foreign  odor  in  his  nostrils  that  seemed  to  him 
to  be  wafted  from  an  incalculably  vast  distance; 
and  from  the  same  distance  was  borne  to  his  ears 
the  confused  murmuring  of  many  voices.  It  ap- 
peared to  Sir  Richard  that  he  had  been  years  upon 
years  lying  upon  his  back  exerting  a  vain  though 

104 


THE   AWAKENING 

ceaseless  endeavor  to  summon  together  his  scat- 
tered faculties.  He  would  be  aware,  in  a  vague 
sort  of  way,  that  his  truant  mind  was  slowly 
settling  upon  some  solid  point  of  fact.  But  when 
it  was  just  about  arriving  at  the  spot  where 
memory  awaited  it,  nothing  remained  but  baffling 
space,  and  he  would  discover  himself  to  be  again 
hanging  in  the  awful  abyss  of  Nothingness. 

For  quite  a  space  Sir  Richard  struggled  thus 
mightily  to  recover  his  wits  from  the  enthralling 
opiate.  Slowly,  now,  the  events  of  the  immediate 
past  were  coming  back  to  him.  The  first  being 
that  returned  to  tenant  his  recreant  memory  was 
the  gaunt,  tall  figure  of  the  inn-keeper.  Then 
crept  in,  stealthily,  mysteriously,  the  mis- 
shapen hunchback,  Zenas.  The  fog  lifted  from 
off  the  episode  of  the  hound.  "The  voice,"  he 
whispered.  "Ah!  the  voice!  The  note — yea,  the 
note!  And  the  precious  strip  of  saffron  velvet!" 

Feebly  he  thrust  his  hand  within  the  breast  of 
his  doublet  and  found  it  there,  whereupon  he 
contrived  to  open  his  eyes  and  struggle  to  his 
elbow. 

An  expression  of  indescribable  amazement  sat 
upon  the  young  knight's  countenance  when  his 

105 


eyes  encountered,  above  his  head,  the  waving 
folds  of  the  purple  and  black  pavilion  in  the  place 
of  the  uncovered  beams  of  the  room  in  the  Red 
Tavern  in  which  he  had  fallen  asleep.  He  looked 
at  the  bed,  and  noted  that  it  was  the  same,  or  one 
exactly  similar  in  pattern.  Upon  a  chair  along- 
side his  steel  gear  had  been  neatly  disposed.  De 
Claverlok  had  seen  to  it  that  it  was  scrupulously 
burnished  in  every  part.  Sir  Richard's  head- 
piece confronted  him  jauntily  from  its  position 
upon  one  of  the  lower  bed-posts.  He  saw,  as  he 
took  it  up,  that  its  scarlet  plume  had  been  daintily 
curled.  Turning  it  over,  he  raised  the  fillet.  The 
message  from  Isabel  was  not  there. 

Round  about  the  pavilion  he  could  hear  men 
talking  and  laughing.  From  the  volume  of 
sound,  he  estimated  it  to  be  a  considerable  com- 
pany. They  were  conversing  together  for  the 
most  part,  however,  in  the  Spanish  tongue,  and 
he  could  gather  nothing  above  a  fragmentary 
word  here  and  there.  The  perplexity  was  grow- 
ing upon  him  as  to  which  was  the  dream,  the 
singular  circumstance  of  the  night  before,  or  that 
in  which  he  then  discovered  himself.  But  the 
cutting  of  saffron  velvet,  which  he  thereupon 

106 


THE   AWAKENING 

withdrew  from  its  hiding  place,  proved  to  his  ap- 
parent satisfaction  that  his  charming  adventure 
with  the  imprisoned  maid  had  been  a  sweet  real- 
ity. Examining  it  minutely,  he  pressed  it  once 
more  to  his  lips,  and  then  restored  it  to  its  place 
next  his  heart. 

Against  one  side  of  the  pavilion,  which  was 
closely  curtained  at  every  point,  stood  a  bench 
upon  which  rested  a  basin  of  clear  water.  He 
arose  from  bed  and  laved  his  aching  head  within 
its  grateful  coldness.  It  had  the  effect  of  clear- 
ing it  wonderfully.  Before  buckling  on  his 
armor,  it  occurred  to  him  to  ascertain  whether 
the  King's  warrant  were  yet  secure.  He  dis- 
covered, much  to  his  chagrin,  that  it  was  missing. 
He  congratulated  himself,  however,  upon  Lord 
Stanley's  foresight  in  having  provided  him  with 
a  duplicate  copy,  which  he  had  taken  the  precau- 
tion to  have  sewn  within  the  lining  of  the  skirt 
of  his  doublet,  and  was  overjoyed  to  find  that 
this  had  been  overlooked.  He  then  finished 
buckling  on  his  steel  gear,  fastened  on  the  casque, 
drew  the  visor  close,  and  in  this  manner,  armed 
in  proof,  he  walked  straight  to  the  entrance  and 
thrust  aside  the  damask  hangings. 

107 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

The  pair  of  stalwart  guards  outside  tumbled 
awkwardly  together  in  their  haste  to  arise,  mut- 
tering confused  sentences  in  Spanish  as  they  did 
so  and  touching  their  fingers  to  their  bonnets  in 
a  respectful  salute.  This  rather  humorous  hap- 
pening drew  the  attention  of  a  score  or  more  of 
armed  men  seated  about  a  roaring  fire,  which 
burned  at  the  foot  of  the  steep  incline  that  fell 
away  from  the  pavilion  on  every  hand.  Upon 
catching  sight  of  Sir  Richard  they  arose  in  a 
body  to  their  feet,  standing  at  soldierly  attention. 
Several  of  them  bowed.  One  from  among  them 
started  quickly  up  the  hill  to  where  the  young 
knight  stood. 

He  was  a  man  of  admirable  proportions,  and 
the  ease  and  grace  with  which  he  swung  up  the 
sharp  slope,  all  encumbered  as  he  was  in  a  suit 
of  heavy,  inlaid  armor,  bespoke  for  him  great 
strength  and  activity  of  limb  and  body.  The 
guards,  obedient  to  his  terse  commands,  withdrew 
themselves  beyond  earshot.  He  then  approached 
Sir  Richard,  removed  his  feathered  cap  that  he 
was  wearing  in  temporary  lieu  of  helmet,  and 
saluted  him  with  an  elaborate  bow. 

"Good-morrow,  sir  knight,"  he  gave  him  greet- 
108 


THE    AWAKENING 

ing.  "Thy  slumber,  I  trust,  hath  proved  as  rest- 
ful as  it  was  prolonged  and  deep?" 

"By  'r  lady!"  the  young  knight  curtly  re- 
joined, affronted  by  that  which  he  considered  but 
mock  ceremony.  "And  what  meaneth  this  thing, 
pray?  Why  am  I  entented  here  and  surrounded 
by  guards  and  warriors  .  .  .  free-lances,  out- 
laws .  .  .  i'  truth,  I  know  not  which?  Tor- 
ment me  not  with  suspense,  sir,  but  tell  me  .  .  . 
where  is  the  Red  Tavern  wherein  I  went  to  sleep? 
And,  by  all  the  gods,  sirrah,  who  art  thou?" 

"The  last  shall  be  first,  good  my  knight,  and 
the  first  last,"  the  other  answered  flippantly. 
"As  for  myself,  I  am  known  here  in  Scotland  as 
the  Knight  of  the  Double  Rook.  In  England  I 
am  styled  the  Renegade  Duke,  and  the  bloody 
block  in  the  Tower,  sir,  doth  this  moment  itch  for 
my  head.  To  bring  the  history  of  my  variegated 
and  not  uninteresting  career  down  to  the  present 
time,  I  have  the  distinguished  honor  to  have  been 
nominated  as  thy  squire  and  secretary.  And  as 
such,  sir  knight,  I  respectfully  await  thy  com- 
mands." 

"Then,"  answered  Sir  Richard  upon  the  in- 
stant, "show  me  now  the  road  to  the  Red  Tavern. 

109 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

And  be  good  enough  to  explain  the  mystery  of 
how  I  am  come  to  be  here  without  either  my 
knowledge  or  consent.  Who  may  it  be,  sir,  that 
is  at  bottom  of  this  damnable  piece  of  device  and 
practice?" 

"By  St.  Peter,  sir  knight,"  replied  the  Rene- 
gade Duke,  "I  miss  my  shot,  an  the  Red  Tavern 
be  now  even  three  cock-crows  removed  from  here. 
For  that,  good  sir,  hath  been  the  duration  of  thy 
sleep.  As  to  its  cause,  .  .  .  well,  Friar  Di- 
omed,  the  secret  chymist,  could  doubtless  better 
acquit  himself  of  that  answer  than  I." 

"But  thou  canst  tell  me  why  I  am  here,"  Sir 
Richard  insisted,  "and  who  is  responsible  for  this 
stealthy  abduction." 

"Why  thou  art  here,  sir  knight,  I  may  not 
say,"  declared  the  Renegade  Duke,  "for  I  have 
pledged  my  knightly  word  to  maintain  secrecy 
upon  that  point.  As  to  the  responsibility,"  he 
added  boastingly,  "I  would  fain  accept  my  share 
of  that  along  with  the  forty  other  knights  and 
nobles  who  conspired  to  bring  thee  here." 

"Pray,"  Sir  Richard  went  on,  "of  what  advan- 
tage is  a  truce,  an  a  loyal  subject  of  the  King 
may  not  travel  abroad  without  adventuring  the 

110 


THE   AWAKENING 

perils  of  captivity,  detention,  or  such  other  dis- 
courtesies as  thy  august  body  of  forty  may  have 
under  consideration?  Have  done  with  this  errant 
nonsense,  my  good  Duke  .  .  an,  indeed,  thou 
be  such  .  .  .  and  tell  me  where  I  shall  find  my 
horse,  so  that  I  may  fare  away  upon  my  jour- 
ney?" 

"Thy  steed,  sir  knight,"  said  the  Renegade 
Duke,  apparently  not  heeding  Sir  Richard's  un- 
veiled insult,  "is  now  being  groomed  by  an 
equerry.  After  thou  hast  broken  thy  fast  it  shall 
be  led  around  to  thee,  wearing  as  fine  a  coat  of 
glossy  satin  as  ever  graced  my  lady's  shoulders. 
Thou  shalt  then  be  at  liberty  .  .  .  or  in  a 
manner  at  liberty,  I  should  have  said,  ...  to 
resume  thy  journey,  as  henceforth  thou  shalt 
travel  under  the  protection  of  our  estimable  body 
of  men  here." 

There  are  ways  without  number  of  accepting 
an  involuntary  and  compulsory  situation.  Sir 
Richard  chose  to  embrace  it  after  a  lightsome  and 
cheery  fashion,  believing  thus  that  the  open  eye 
for  an  opportunity  of  effecting  his  escape 
would  be  thus  more  effectually  disguised  and 

concealed. 

Ill 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

"Well,  ...  so  must  it  be,"  said  he,  laugh- 
ing. "And  since,  mayhap,  we  are  to  travel  in 
the  same  direction,  I  shall  be  all  the  gainer  by 
thy  famous  company." 

After  they  had  breakfasted,  the  Renegade 
Duke  signified  his  desire  to  escort  Sir  Richard 
about  the  grounds  of  the  encampment. 

He  found  it  to  be  composed  of  some  three- 
score of  tents  set  in  a  wide  circle  around  the  pur- 
ple and  black  pavilion.  These,  his  loquacious 
guide  informed  him,  but  served  to  give  shelter  to 
the  leaders,  the  men-at-arms  and  archers,  of 
which  there  were  near  a  thousand,  had  thatched, 
rude  coverings  beneath  the  trees  and  shelving 
rocks.  It  was  a  perfect  morning,  the  sun  blazing 
upon  the  sea  out  of  a  cloudless  sky.  The  site  of 
the  encampment  was  matchless  in  the  beauty  of 
its  surroundings.  To  the  north  an  apparently 
limitless  forest  started  out  of  a  purple  haze  on 
the  line  of  the  horizon,  far  above;  and,  slipping 
down  in  terrace  beneath  terrace  of  parti-colored 
foliage,  halted  abruptly,  as  though  the  red  moor 
had  forbidden  the  trees  to  trespass  within  its 
boundries.  Southward,  one  overlooked  the  gorse- 
grown  plain,  the  level  monotony  of  which  was 

112 


THE   AWAKENING 

broken,  at  wide  intervals,  by  the  sudden  uprear- 
ing  of  an  isolated  brae. 

When  Sir  Richard  and  the  Duke  returned 
from  their  circuit  of  the  place  of  the  encampment, 
the  purple  and  black  pavilion  had  been  struck, 
and  a  cavalcade  of  fifty  horsemen,  superbly 
armed  and  caparisoned,  awaited  but  the  command 
to  move.  An  equerry  led  forward  the  young 
knight's  horse,  which  neighed  with  joy  upon  be- 
holding its  master.  As  to  the  perfection  of  its 
condition,  the  Renegade  Duke  had  not  exag- 
gerated, for,  between  its  burnished  trappings,  its 
ebon  coat  shone  with  the  soft  and  velvetv  sheen 

v 

of  the  finest  satin.  As  he  leapt  into  the  saddle  a 
bugler  winded  a  silvery  blast  and  the  company 
at  once  set  into  motion.  The  horsemen  were 
equally  disposed  forward  of  the  noble  prisoner 
and  to  the  rear.  Upon  his  right  hand  rode  the 
Renegade  Duke,  who  had  mounted  himself  upon 
a  gigantic  white  stallion.  To  his  left  rode  Lord 
Bishop  Kennedy,  to  whom  the  Duke  introduced 
Sir  Richard  as  they  began  their  march. 

The  Renegade  Duke's  range  of  subjects  of 
conversation  was  limited  to  the  discussion  of  his 
wonderful  prowess  in  armed  encounters  upon  the 

113 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

field  of  battle  and  within  the  lists,  and  of  his  in- 
numerable conquests  in  that  other  and  fairer  field 
of  the  heart's  affections.  Sir  Richard  had  dis- 
liked the  fellow  from  the  first,  and  his  feelings 
toward  him  were  rapidly  undergoing  a  change 
into  something  more  robust  than  mere  dislike. 
But  to  have  sought  a  quarrel  with  him  then  would 
have  defeated  the  purpose  that  was  even  then  as- 
suming a  definite  shape  within  the  young  knight's 
mind.  Sir  Richard  despised  the  Duke  not  alone 
because  of  his  manner  of  speaking,  but  also  for 
the  way  he  had  of  twisting  his  fierce  mustachios 
till  they  pointed  heavenward  from  each  of  his 
round  cheeks. 

When  he  could  no  longer  tolerate  listening  to 
his  idle  boasting,  Sir  Richard  turned  and  ad- 
dressed himself  to  Lord  Bishop  Kennedy,  who 
had  spoken  no  word  to  the  young  knight  since 
their  first  brief  interchange  of  courtesies  at  the 
start  of  their  journey. 

"Surely,"  thought  Sir  Richard,  "if  Verbosity 
attends  me  upon  my  right  hand,  Taciturnity  doth 
ride  gloomily  along  at  my  left,"  for  the  worthy 
Bishop  did  not  even  condescend  to  raise  his  sharp 

chin  from  out  of  his  white  tunic  whilst  delivering 

114 


THE   AWAKENING 

himself  of  a  curt  negative  or  affirmative  in  re- 
sponse to  the  young  knight's  conversational  ad- 
vances. 

Ahead  of  where  they  were  riding,  a  jagged 
spur  of  the  forest,  composed  of  stunted  pines  and 
dense  underbrush,  swept  defiantly  down  upon  the 
moor.  They  were  forced  to  describe  a  wide  de- 
tour to  the  southward  in  order  to  avoid  it  and 
come  upon  the  other  side.  As  they  were  passing 
its  nethermost  point,  Sir  Richard  glanced  back 
to  the  place  of  his  strange  awakening  beneath  the 
sumptuous  pavilion.  He  saw  a  great  ship,  with 
snowy  sails  bellying  in  the  wind,  making  straight 
for  that  point  of  the  coast,  and  the  men,  whom 
they  had  left  behind,  were  swarming  after  the 
manner  of  an  army  of  busy  ants  to  the  sandy 
beach. 

Passing  the  spur  of  stunted  pines,  they  skirted 
the  forest  in  a  northwesterly  direction  till  they 
had  arrived  upon  a  well  defined  road  that  plunged 
directly  into  the  dense  wood.  Up  this  rocky  way 
the  cavalcade  slowly  defiled.  Far  above  their 
heads  the  maze  of  branches  met  and  intertwined, 
making  it  seem  as  though  the  company  had  been 

swallowed  up  within   the  cool  mouth  of   a  tre- 

115 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

mendously  lofty  green  cavern.  The  sound  of  the 
hoof -beats  of  their  horses  was  smothered  in  the 
thick  carpet  of  pine  needles  underfoot,  and  the 
rich,  sweet  scent  of  them  filled  all  the  air. 

Since  Sir  Richard  had  displayed  a  disinclina- 
tion to  give  ear  to  his  cant,  the  Renegade  Duke 
had  drawn  ahead  to  join  the  leading  horsemen, 
and  for  an  interval  of  more  than  two  hours 
Bishop  Kennedy  and  his  prisoner  rode  onward 
side  by  side  without  exchanging  a  single  word. 

"What  road  may  this  be,  good  Bishop?"  he 
ventured  finally  to  inquire. 

:  'Tis   the   continuation   of  the   Sauchieburn 
Pass,"  Lord  Kennedy  briefly  replied. 

Sir  Richard  was  more  than  contented,  for  he 
knew  then  that  the  way  led  to  Castle  Yewe  and 
Lord  Douglas,  into  whose  hands  he  intended  soon 
to  deliver  the  duplicate  of  the  parchment  that  had 
been  pilfered  from  out  of  his  wallet. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

OF  A  QUARREL  AND   A   CHALLENGE 

THE    road    through    the    forest    wound 
steadily  upward,  and  when  they  had  left 
behind  them  the  red  moors  and  braes,  the 
heaving,  shimmering  sea,  they  gained  no  view  of 
the  open,  and  but  scant  glimpses  of  the  sky,  so 
thickly  interwoven  were  the  leafy  branches  above 
their  heads,  till  they  had  emerged  upon  a  furzed 
and  brambled  down  that  commanded  an  uninter- 
rupted prospect  for  many  miles  around. 

The  scene  then  spread  before  them  was  one  of 
superb  grandeur,  and  well  repaid  them  for  their 
march  of  five  hours  up  the  long  and  tedious  slope, 
of  which  the  point  where  they  were  now  come 
marked  the  extreme  summit.  The  sea  had  dis- 
appeared out  of  the  range  of  their  vision,  and  in 
every  direction  the  land  dipped  away  in  a  myriad 
of  mounds  and  hills,  with  splotches  of  golden 
gorse  dotting  their  tops  and  sides,  till  the  last  of 

117 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

them  was  lost  in  a  purple  haze  that  hung  above 
the  indefinite,  circular  rim  of  the  horizon ;  a  fleecy 
wrack  of  clouds  tossed  before  the  light  wind 
across  the  deep  blue  dome  of  the  sky.  These, 
speeding  between  sun  and  earth,  sent  patches  of 
light  and  shadow  in  a  swift  pursuit  of  each  other 
up  and  down  over  the  breast  of  the  sweet  land- 
scape as  though  they  were  playing  at  some  pretty 
game. 

Here,  word  passed  among  the  men  that  they 
might  dismount  to  bait  themselves  and  their 
horses  and  enjoy  a  brief  period  of  rest  before  re- 
suming the  march.  Amidst  resounding  talk  and 
laughter  they  clambered  out  of  their  saddles, 
tethered  their  steeds  where  the  grass  grew  most 
abundantly,  and  proceeded  to  make  themselves 
comfortable,  after  the  campaigner's  fashion,  by 
sprawling  at  full  length  upon  the  velvety  turf 
in  the  agreeable  warmth  of  the  sun.  Meanwhile, 
serving-men  were  addressing  themselves  to  the 
work  of  gathering  armfuls  of  dried  hemlock 
twigs,  building  fires  over  which  to  warm  the 
pastys,  and  broaching  casks  of  stum. 

A  bright-faced  youth,  who  had  evidently  been 
appointed  equerry  to  Sir  Richard,  approached 

118 


A  QUARREL  AND  A  CHALLENGE 

and  signified  his  readiness  to  take  charge  of  the 
young  knight's  horse.  Sir  Richard  dismounted, 
gave  the  reins  into  the  youth's  hands,  and  joined 
Lord  Kennedy,  who  was  leaning  against  a  curi- 
ously stunted  cedar  that  grew  from  the  brink  of 
a  steep  declivity  near  at  hand.  Within  his  mind, 
Sir  Richard  had  applied  the  nickname  of  "Taci- 
turnitus"  to  his  silent  companion  of  the  morning, 
and  he  was  surprised  to  observe  the  grim  warrior- 
churchman  drinking  in  the  glorious  scene  with  a 
keen  zest  of  which  he  had  deemed  him  altogether 
incapable.  For  quite  a  space  they  stood  side  by 
side,  silently  contemplating  the  diversified  beau- 
ties of  the  landscape  that  unrolled  before  them 
from  the  sky-line  to  the  base  of  the  cliff. 

Here  and  there,  filmy  pennants  of  white  smoke, 
indicating  the  location  of  shepherds'  cottages, 
would  fling  from  behind  the  masses  of  foliage 
upon  the  farther  hillsides.  There  was  but  one 
structure  visible,  however;  a  rambling  pile  of 
gray  stone,  shot  with  a  trinity  of  embattled  tow- 
ers, which  was  nestled  along  the  slope  of  a  down, 
some  three  leagues  distant  from  where  they  were 
standing. 

"What  is  that  building  yonder,  my  lord?" 
119 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

queried  Sir  Richard,  indicating  its  location  with 
outstretched  hand  and  finger. 

"That,"  replied  Bishop  Kennedy,  "is  the  Black 
Friar's  Monastery.  Our  way,  sir  knight,  leads 
directly  beneath  its  sealed  portcullis,  which  is 
opened  but  once  in  the  year,  and  then  only  for 
the  purpose  of  admitting  its  annual  quota  of 
novices.  The  final  glance  of  the  probationer's 
eye  upon  a  free  earth  and  heaven  embraces  this 
bit  bonnie  scene.  When  he  is  quit  of  the  damp 
cell  and  noisome  cloister,  the  crypt,  lying  within 
the  belly  of  the  hill,  becomes  the  final  repository 
of  his  lime-bleached  bones." 

While  Bishop  Kennedy  was  talking  Sir  Rich- 
ard's attention  had  been  directed  toward  a  soli- 
tary traveler,  who  was  drawing  near  along  the 
road  that  wound  around  the  foot  of  the  cliff  and 
swept  over  the  hill  upon  which  his  captors  were 
bivouacing.  The  pilgrim  was  mounted  upon  a 
round-bodied,  slow  moving  and  remarkably  long- 
eared  donkey,  which  was  exactly  of  a  color  with 
the  rider's  voluminous,  cowled  robe.  As  he  came 
within  easy  view  it  could  be  seen  that  he  was 
diligently  poring  over  some  sheets  of  manuscript. 
It  appeared  not  to  annoy  the  reader  in  the  least 

120 


A  QUARREL  AND  A  CHALLENGE 

when  the  donkey  stopped,  which  it  did  every  lit- 
tle while,  to  scratch  its  underside  with  its  hind 
hoof. 

"Well,  by  my  Faith!"  exclaimed  Bishop  Ken- 
nedy, with  a  display  of  genuine  enthusiasm  upon 
catching  sight  of  the  pilgrim. 

"You  know  him,  my  lord?" 

"Yea — that  I  do,  Sir  Richard.  Upon  the 
round  back  of  yonder  ass  rides  a  scholar,  sir 
knight,  whose  fame  will  one  d.ay  be  proclaimed 
over  all  the  land.  Aye — and  whose  name  shall 
live  when  thine  and  mine  have  been  erased  along 
with  the  epitaphs  upon  our  tombs.  Let  me  crave 
thy  indulgence,  and  call  another  to  keep  thee 
company,  whilst  I  go  forward  to  embrace  my 
friend  Erasmus." 

"De  Claverlok,  attend  us,"  he  then  called  to 
the  grizzled  knight,  who  was  sitting  beside  one 
of  the  roaring  fires  and  skilfully  balancing  a 
pasty  above  it  upon  the  blade  of  his  halberd. 

De  Claverlok  quickly  gulped  down  the  re- 
mainder of  the  contents  of  the  flagon  beside  him 
and  came  toward  the  two  men  wearing  a  good- 
natured  smile,  smacking  his  lips  aloud  and  wip- 
ing his  beard  with  the  back  of  his  broad  hand. 

121 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

"The  wine  is  to  thy  liking,  I  perceive,"  re- 
marked Bishop  Kennedy  dryly. 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  the  grizzled  veteran  heartily, 
"there's  nothing,  my  men,  that  can  equal  it.  Give 
me  drink  with  the  must  in  't  every  blessed  day  of 
the  year,  ...  eh !" 

"Thou  art  ever  rilled  with  ardor,  de  Claverlok, 
when  the  meat  and  drink  are  in  question,"  ob- 
served Kennedy  with  a  faint  trace  of  a  smile. 
"But  canst  forget  thy  loves  long  enough  to  keep 
companionship  with  our  guest  whilst  I  go  for- 
ward to  meet  my  friend  riding  below?" 

"Certes  will  I  bear  the  sir  knight  company," 
the  grizzled  knight  instantly  agreed.  "And  I 
need  not  desert  my  loves  in  doing  so,  ...  eh, 
.  .  .  my  boy?" 

Whereupon  he  led  Sir  Richard  to  a  seat  beside 
a  hastily  constructed  table,  made  of  two  broad 
planks  set  lengthwise  above  a  pair  of  empty 
casks.  Over  it,  fluttering  and  crackling  in  the 
crisp,  invigorating  breeze  that  blew  across  the 
mountain,  was  stretched  an  awning  of  purple  and 
black,  which  the  young  knight  took  to  be  a  part 
of  the  pavilion  beneath  which  he  had  been  so  mys- 
teriously transported,  and  beneath  which  that 

122 


A  QUARREL  AND  A  CHALLENGE 

morning  he  had  so  strangely  awakened.  The 
Renegade  Duke,  with  a  partially  empty  tankard 
at  his  hand,  was  already  seated  before  a  steaming 
pasty.  From  the  violent  red  of  his  nose  and 
cheeks  it  could  easily  be  seen  that  he  had  been 
making  rather  too  free  with  the  stum.  Besides 
painting  his  round  face,  it  had  provided  him  with 
the  fool's  courage  to  unmask  his  hatred  of  Sir 
Richard,  at  whom  he  glared  across  the  impro- 
vised table  with  an  open  defiance.  At  first  he 
was  careful  to  preserve  a  sulky  silence,  but  by  the 
time  he  had  emptied  a  few  more  flagons  he  grew 
noisily  vociferant,  and  would  likely  have  opened 
the  quarrel  then  and  there,  had  it  not  been  for  a 
now  and  again  lustily  delivered  nudge  of  de 
Claverlok's  mailed  elbow. 

He  was  sufficiently  himself,  however,  to  re- 
lapse into  silence  when  the  Bishop  joined  them 
with  his  youthful  friend,  whom  he  addressed  in- 
timately as  Gerard,  but  introduced  to  the  three 
men  as  Erasmus. 

The  scholar's  loose  robe  did  not  wholly  conceal 
the  angularity  of  his  figure.  His  cheeks,  though 
almost  painfully  hollow,  were  touched  with  the 
olive  bronze  of  winds  and  weathers.  His  nose 

123 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

Was  unusually  prominent,  but  cut  fine  at  bridge 
and  nostril.  His  brow,  classically  moulded,  was 
deep  and  broad  at  its  base.  Altogether,  his 
physiognomy  was  remarkable  for  its  combination 
of  severe  austerity  and  innate  generosity  and 
kindliness. 

"It  would  seem,"  said  he,  seating  himself  be- 
side the  table  between  Bishop  Kennedy  and  Sir 
Richard,  "that  the  flower  of  knighthood  is  gath- 
ered here  to  look  upon  the  flower  of  Scotland's 
scenery.  I  wonder,  sir  knights,  that  the  restful 
peace  of  yonder  view  does  not  communicate  it- 
self to  your  martial  breasts  and  render  you 
brothers-in-love  of  all  the  world." 

"Thy  business  it  is  to  think,  dream,  and  ob- 
serve, Gerard,"  said  Lord  Kennedy,  "and  ours  to 
act.  The  world  is  yet  too  imperfect  to  receive 
thy  teachings,  my  friend." 

"Yea — that  it  is,"  agreed  de  Claverlok  be- 
tween bites.  "With  us  it's  eat,  drink,  rest  be- 
times, and  then  away.  I'll  wager,  though,  our 
gear  sits  lighter  on  our  shoulders  than  your  robe, 

eh?" 
•     •     •     cut . 

"Right  readily  do  I  grant  you  that,  sir  knight," 
returned  Erasmus  smilingly.  "This  robe,  in 

124 


A  QUARREL  AND  A  CHALLENGE 

truth,  is  one  of  the  heaviest  of  my  burdens. 
There  would  be  many  a  naked  back,  my  lord," 
he  added  gravely,  turning  toward  Bishop  Ken- 
nedy, "an  the  robe  were  to  be  stripped  from  every 
bigoted  hypocrite.  It  grieves  me  to  admit  my  be- 
lief that  steel  girded  breasts  are  uniformly  more 
steadfast  to  their  principles  than  those  enveloped 
within  the  robe  and  cowl." 

Thus,  during  the  hour  of  eating,  Erasmus 
held  Lord  Kennedy  and  Sir  Richard  enthralled 
with  the  charm  and  compelling  influence  of  his 
colloquy,  in  the  course  of  which  he  explained  to 
them  that  he  was  then  journeying  from  a  monas- 
tery at  Stein  to  enter  the  services  of  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Cambray,  and  that  later  it  was  a  part 
of  his  plan  to  go  on  to  Paris,  where  he  intended 
pursuing  his  studies  under  the  continued  patron- 
age of  his  amiable  and  generous  master. 

Had  the  scholar  touched  at  all  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  battles,  or  of  deeds  of  martial  gallantry, 
it  is  possible  that  he  might  again  have  enticed  de 
Claverlok  to  give  ear.  But  as  it  was,  that  bluff 
warrior  yielded  himself  in  his  most  heartywise  to 
the  business  of  devastating  the  remainder  of  the 
pasty  before  him,  and  maintaining  a  constant 

125 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

void  within  the  pewter  flagon  beside  his  plate. 
As  for  the  Renegade  Duke,  Sir  Richard  noted 
that  his  vapid  smile  had  resolved  itself  into  some- 
thing approaching  a  drunken  leer,  and  that  be- 
neath his  vain  twaddle  there  ran  a  distinct  under- 
current of  thinly  veiled  sarcasm.  It  grew  appar- 
ent that  he  was  striving  desperately  to  mask  his 
quarrel  with  the  young  knight  from  the  under- 
standing of  Lord  Kennedy.  In  this  Sir  Richard 
was  assisting  him  to  his  uttermost.  Some  time 
before  he  had  conceived  the  idea  that  a  quarrel 
and  subsequent  duel,  which  he  hoped  that  his 
blatant  guard  might  secretly  arrange,  would  pro- 
vide a  likely  means  of  escape. 

That  their  combined  efforts  were  unfruitful 
of  misleading  the  shrewd  Bishop  was  soon  made 
apparent;  for,  before  leaving  from  beneath  the 
awning  with  Erasmus,  he  took  the  grizzled  knight 
aside,  talking  earnestly  with  him  for  several  min- 
utes. 

"I  am  but  going  to  make  Erasmus  acquainted 
with  some  of  our  famous  fellows,"  he  was  ex- 
plaining to  de  Claverlok,  "and  shall  soon  return. 
Above  all  things,  Sir  Lionel,"  he  warned  in  a 
whisper,  "keep  a  close  eye  on  the  Knight  of  the 

126 


A  QUARREL  AND  A  CHALLENGE 

Double  Rook.  Before  we  came  to  yonder  table 
I  had  disquieting  news  from  the  scholar  from 
Bannockburn  way.  Douglas  is  arming  to  op- 
pose us,  and  planning  to  invade  England  for  a 
purpose  similar  with  ours.  I  fear  me  that  he  is 
familiar  with  every  happening  within  our  camp, 
and  doubts  have  arisen  within  me  as  to  the  Rene- 
gade Duke's  integrity  to  our  cause.  An  I  am  not 
mistaken,  there  is  a  plan  afoot  to  defeat  our  pur- 
pose of  delivering  the  young  noble  within  our 
northern  stronghold.  There's  something  mighti- 
ly wrong,  de  Claverlok.  Not  a  breath  have  I 
heard  from  our  captive  regarding  the  King's 
warrant  taken  from  his  pouch  by  Sir  James ;  and 
yet  is  he  as  eager  as  an  unhooded  falcon  to 
escape  and  fare  away  upon  his  journey.  How  it 
would  boot  him  to  go  on,  I  cannot  make  out. 
Remember,  sir  knight,"  Bishop  Kennedy  con- 
cluded sternly,  "that  henceforth  thou  art  held  re- 
sponsible for  the  youth's  safe  detention;  .  .  . 
by  thy  knightly  oath  do  we  hold  thee." 

"Aye,  my  lord,"  was  the  extent  of  de  Claver- 
lok's  reply,  though  his  tone  and  manner  indicated 
his  determination  to  be  faithful  to  the  trust  im- 
posed upon  him. 

127 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

While  the  three  men  were  seated  beneath  the 
awning-  awaiting  Lord  Kennedy's  return  they 
espied  along  the  road,  which  wound  like  a  tawny 
worm  beneath  the  porcullis  of  the  Black  Friar's 
Monastery,  a  single  horseman  careering  swiftly 
in  the  direction  of  the  hill  upon  which  they  were 
stationed.  As  the  rider  drew  nearer,  they  could 
see  the  glint  of  the  sun's  rays  upon  the  burnished 
trappings  of  man  and  horse.  Without  exchang- 
ing a  speculative  word,  their  glances  followed  him 
till  he  disappeared  at  a  point  where  the  ochre  road 
was  swallowed  up  in  a  patch  of  brilliantly  colored 
gorse.  He  had  likewise  been  sighted  from  else- 
where upon  the  mountain  top,  for  a  band  of  horse- 
men sallied  down  from  the  place  of  the  bivouac 
and  met  him  precisely  at  the  spot  where  he  again 
issued  into  view  from  behind  the  bushes.  Then, 
wheeling,  they  bore  him  company  up  the  declivi- 
tous road.  Coincident  with  their  meeting  with 
the  men  awaiting  them  above  there  was  a  loud 
shouting  of  "Douglas!  False  Douglas,  the 
traitor!"  Whereupon  Lord  Kennedy  could  be 
seen  striding  among  them,  a  trumpeter  winded  a 
blast  "To  horse,"  and  then,  amidst  a  frenzied 
waving  of  pennoned  lances,  the  hitherto  quiet 

128 


A  QUARREL  AND  A  CHALLENGE 

scene  became  alive  with  the  scurrying  of  mailed 
feet,  the  noise  of  creaking  saddle  girths,  the 
hoarse  cries  of  men,  and  the  loud  neighing  of 
horses. 

Sir  Richard,  unable  to  interpret  the  meaning 
of  this  sudden  warlike  demonstration,  and  won- 
dering much  at  the  use  of  the  name  of  Douglas, 
regarded  it  in  the  light  of  a  most  opportune  hap- 
pening. For  one  thing,  it  had  rid  him  tem- 
porarily of  the  presence  of  de  Claverlok,  who  was 
swinging  furiously  down  the  slope  bellowing 
aloud  for  the  Duke's  horse,  for  Sir  Richard's,  and 
his  own.  The  young  knight  at  once  availed  him- 
self of  the  opportunity  of  resuming  his  quarrel 
with  the  Renegade  Duke;  and,  as  he  regarded 
him  scornfully  across  the  board,  that  individual 
arose  and  bowed  low  before  him.  In  despite  of 
Sir  Richard's  aversion  toward  the  man,  he  was 
obliged  to  pay  tribute  within  his  mind  to  his 
singular  grace  and  perfect  assurance. 

"Why  all  this  mock  courtesy,"  said  the  young 
knight  quietly,  arising  also  to  his  feet,  "when 
your  blade,  my  brave  Duke,  dangles  so  near  to 
your  hand?" 

The  Renegade  Duke  stole  a  glance  behind  him 
129 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

down  the  hill,  and  smiled  insolently,  coolly,  delay- 
ing thus  his  answer  for  a  considerable  space. 

"The  battle-ax,  or  mace,  sir  knight,"  he  said 
then,  "would  better  suit  our  deadly  purposes." 
He  was  not  above  looking  to  the  advantages  of 
his  superior  weight  in  offering  this  suggestion. 
Moreover,  horsemanship  played  an  important 
part  in  this  kind  of  warfare,  and  the  Duke  was 
said  to  be  a  master  horseman.  "Yet—  '  he 
added  the  word  and  then  paused  reflectively. 

"Yet  what?"  returned  Sir  Richard.  "Out  with 
it  ere  de  Claverlok  return  to  thwart  the  perfecting 
of  our  arrangements." 

"Yet—  "  repeated  the  Duke  slowly,  again  look- 
ing behind  him  down  the  hill,  his  lips  still  raised 
from  off  his  teeth  in  a  maddening  smile,  "I  dis- 
like me  much  to  remove  the  single  champion  of 
a  maiden  in  distress.  Would  you  not  consent  to 
grant  to  me  the  legacy  of  effecting  the  fair  one's 
release?" 

The  violence  of  Sir  Richard's  anger,  scattering 
every  vestige  of  prudence  to  the  winds,  might 
easily  have  resulted  in  defeating  his  well  laid 
plan  to  escape.  For,  no  sooner  had  the  Duke  fin- 
ished, than  the  young  knight  found  himself 

130 


A  QUARREL  AND  A  CHALLENGE 

standing  with  his  emptied  tankard  in  his  hand, 
while  his  enemy,  with  a  diaphanous  lace  kerchief, 
was  daintily  wiping  the  dregs  from  it  off  his  face. 
The  fact  that  he  missed  a  drop  of  the  wine,  which 
remained  hanging  from  one  of  the  ridiculous 
points  of  his  upturned  mustachios,  sent  Sir  Rich- 
ard into  a  paroxysm  of  laughter. 

"An  it  comes  to  the  question  of  a  legacy,  Rene- 
gade Duke,"  he  stifled  his  merriment  sufficiently 
to  answer,  "I  shall  do  my  mightiest  to  have  it 
from  you  to  me.  An  I  make  no  mistake,  my 
fine  fellow,  I  shall  gain  the  missive  you  have 
pilfered  before  the  day  is  done." 

While  Sir  Richard  was  speaking,  de  Claverlok 
was  seen  to  be  approaching  at  a  swift  gallop  with 
their  horses. 

"Till  we  meet,"  returned  the  Duke  quickly,  "it 
shall  again  be  yours.  When  your  bonnet  was 
being  burnished  this  morning  it  rolled  from  out 
the  fillet  to  the  pavilion  floor."  Whereupon, 
having  explained  his  possession  of  the  note,  he 
tossed  the  bit  of  paper  before  Sir  Richard  upon 
the  table.  Then,  as  de  Claverlok  drew  rein  and 
called  aloud  for  them  to  mount — "Which  shall  it 
be,"  he  whispered,  "mace,  battle-ax,  or  sword?" 

131 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

"Battle-axes,  at  cock-shut  time,"  Sir  Richard 
hastily  answered,  moving  in  the  direction  of  his 
waiting  horse. 

"Battle-axes  at  cock-shut  time,"  repeated  the 
Duke.  Then,  with  a  sweeping  bow,  he  held  the 
young  knight's  stirrup  for  him  to  mount.  "Bat- 
tle-axes at  cock-shut  time,"  he  said  again.  "Thou 
hast  laid  a  command  upon  me,  .  .  .  Liege!" 
he  added,  with  the  last  word  hissed  low  in  Sir 
Richard's  ear  as  he  vaulted  lightly  past  him  into 
his  saddle. 

"Liege?"  thought  the  young  knight  to  himself 
as  he  rode  onward  down  the  road  beside  de  Clav- 
erlok.  "Why  all  these  ceremonious  bows?  This 
calling  of  me  a  noble  knight?  This  strange  cap- 
tivity? Why  should  I — I,  Richard  Rohan, 
knight,  and  lowly  messenger  of  the  King  be  thus 
curtseyed  to  and  addressed?  And  what  mean 
these  subdued  mutterings  among  the  men  of  'A 
traitor  in  camp,'  'Douglas  playing  false  and  arm- 
ing,' 'Tyrrell  outmaneuvered'  ?  Fates  defend  me. 
I  had  liefer  set  my  lance  against  the  Dragon  of 
Wantley  than  make  an  attempt  to  unravel  the 
deep  mysteries  by  which  I  am  this  moment  sur- 
rounded." 

132 


CHAPTER   IX 

OF  AN  AMBUSCADE,  A  DUEL,  AND  AN  ESCAPE 

THE  Renegade  Duke,  whose  challenge  Sir 
Richard  had  so  openly  invited,  and  who, 
through  the  mishap  described,  had  se- 
cured a  temporary  possession  of  the  playful  note 
written   to   the   young  knight   by   Isabel,   had 
quickly  surmised  by  whom  it  had  been  inscribed. 
He  was  aware  of  the  maid's  dissatisfaction  with 
her  surroundings,  and  that  she  had  chosen  Sir 
Richard  to  be  her  deliverer  at  once  sent  the  Duke 
into  a  ferment  of  passionate  jealousy. 

The  Renegade  Duke's  accidental  meeting  with 
Isabel  when  he  had  first  come  to  Scotland  to  join 
Tyrrell's  projected  expedition,  had  marked  the 
beginning  of  a  mad  desire  to  arouse  within  her 
breast  a  return  of  the  sentiment  that  he  enter- 
tained toward  her.  In  so  far  as  his  superficial 
character  permitted,  his  affection  for  her  was 
genuine.  But  in  the  rare  instances  in  which  he 

133 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

had  contrived  to  meet  and  talk  with  her  alone, 
she  had  rejected  his  suit  with  an  indignant  scorn 
that  would  have  left  an  ordinary  man  without  the 
shadow  of  a  hope  of  future  success.  The  Duke, 
however,  was  all  egotism  and  vanity,  and  re- 
mained firm  in  his  belief  that  his  charms  would 
ultimately  prevail.  By  fair  means  or  foul,  he 
had  determined  upon  having  her  within  his 
power;  and,  as  the  initial  step  toward  such  an 
end,  he  had  played  the  traitor  by  laying  bare  be- 
fore Douglas  the  whole  of  Sir  James's  plan. 

Dbuglas,  himself  a  conspirator  of  no  mean 
abilities,  had  immediately  set  about  to  concoct  a 
scheme  whereby  to  take  advantage  of  Tyrrell's 
grave  dilemma,  caused  by  the  unhappy  death  of 
the  young  prince.  Douglas  had  already  instituted 
measures  to  have  a  substitute  candidate  pro- 
claimed in  the  place  of  the  one  dead,  being  well 
aware  that  Sir  James  would  scarcely  dare  to 
incur  the  ire  of  his  men — from  whom  he  had  kept 
the  circumstance  of  the  prince's  death  a  dark 
secret — by  exposing  the  falsity  of  the  Douglas 
claimant.  Rather,  did  Douglas  figure  it,  would 
Tyrrell  be  under  the  necessity  of  joining  issues. 
This  would  result  hi  a  powerful  movement,  with 

134 


A   DUEL   AND   AN   ESCAPE 

the  Douglas  finger  very  much  in  the  juicy  pasty 
that  was  designed  to  be  served  up  to  Henry  VII 
and  his  followers.  Had  the  Renegade  Duke  been 
acquainted  with  the  genuine  character  of  the  cap- 
tive Sir  Richard's  ancestry  he  would  doubtless 
have  been  in  haste  to  communicate  his  knowledge 
thereof  to  his  new  master,  with  the  result  that  the 
plot,  then  taking  shape,  would  have  been  infinite- 
ly less  complex,  and  probably  less  interesting 
than  it  subsequently  turned  out  to  be.  In  his 
selection  of  Sir  Richard  to  assume  the  leadership 
of  his  gathered  forces,  the  Duke  fell  into  the 
error  of  supposing  that  Tyrrell  had  happened  by 
chance  to  duplicate  Lord  Douglas's  clever  ex- 
pedient. 

In  the  early  morning  of  that  day  the  Duke  had 
contrived  to  get  word  to  one  of  Douglas's  lieu- 
tenants of  the  captivity  of  the  young  knight,  and 
of  Tyrrell's  intention  to  carry  him  to  his  strong- 
hold before  making  known  his  plans  with  regard 
to  him.  The  Duke  anticipated  a  counter  move 
upon  the  part  of  Douglas  along  the  way ;  but  he 
calculated  that  if  he  could  make  himself  the  in- 
strument of  the  captive's  removal,  it  would  place 

him  high  in  the  esteem  of  Lord  Douglas ;  while, 

135 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

at  the  same  time,  he  believed  that  such  a  move 
would  leave  Tyrrell  without  a  prop  wherewith  to 
buttress  his  tottering  conspiracy. 

As  Sir  Richard,  around  whom  simmered  this 
salmagundi  of  politics,  rode  onward  with  the  com- 
pany, he  tried  many  times,  by  piecing  together 
odds  and  ends  of  the  talk  that  drifted  to  his  ears, 
to  gather  some  inkling  of  the  purpose  upon  which 
the  company,  of  which  he  was  a  most  unwilling 
member,  was  engaged.  With  recurring  fre- 
quency he  heard  the  word  "treason,"  and  its  kin- 
dred, "traitor,"  "spy,"  "base  informer"  traded 
from  tongue  to  tongue  among  the  men  around 
him.  The  march  was  now  being  urged  rapidly 
forward,  and  a  something  portending  evil  seemed 
to  be  hanging  in  the  air  about  them. 

The  end  they  were  seeking  to  attain,  and  the 
part  his  person  was  playing  in  their  machinations 
grew  more  enigmatical  in  proportion  with  the 
thought  that  Sir  Richard  gave  to  the  matter  of 
burrowing  to  the  reason  for  them.  He  ceased 
trying,  finally,  and  suffered  himself  to  be  carried 
along  whithersoever  chance,  or  good  or  bad  for- 
tune, listed. 

His  companion  of  the  morning,  now  no  longer 
136 


A   DUEL   AND    AN    ESCAPE 

taciturn,  was  riding  well  to  the  front  with  Eras- 
mus, whom  he  had  evidently  persuaded  to  remain 
with  the  company.  In  sullen  silence  at  his  left 
rode  the  Renegade  Duke.  Faithful  de  Claverlok 
kept  within  touch  of  Sir  Richard's  hand  to  his 
right. 

When  he  was  not  engaging  the  bluff  old  war- 
rior in  conversation,  the  young  knight  would 
yield  himself  to  the  ineffable  delights  of  conjur- 
ing up  radiant  visions  of  the  maiden  of  the  piece 
of  saffron  velvet,  whilst  all  of  the  time  he  was 
building  every  manner  of  chimerical  plan  for  ef- 
fecting her  delivery  from  the  hands  of  the  keeper 
of  the  Red  Tavern.  Full  often  his  fingers  would 
seek  and  caress  the  soft  nap  of  the  cutting  of 
cloth.  He  had  need  of  constant  assurance  that 
the  entire  mysterious  happening  had  not  been  of 
the  ephemeral  fabric  of  an  unusual  dream. 

Thinking  thus  of  the  unknown  maiden  to 
whom  he  had  pledged  his  knightly  sword,  led  him 
naturally  to  the  contemplation  of  his  own  free- 
dom, and  the  stratagem  through  which  he  was 
hopeful  of  achieving  it.  That  his  avowed 
enemy,  the  Duke,  was,  at  the  proper  moment, 
ready  to  lend  himself  to  his  device,  Sir  Richard 

137 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

was  almost  certain.  His  scheme  involved  the  ar- 
rangement of  a  secret  duel,  in  which  he  trusted 
in  his  strength  of  arm  to  vanquish  his  enemy  and 
thereafter  make  his  escape.  But  a  most  substan- 
tial and  incorruptible  barrier  offered  in  the  bulky 
person  of  the  grizzled  knight.  As  many  as  a 
score  of  times  had  de  Claverlok  been  loudly  hailed 
from  the  vanguard  of  the  line.  But  without  ex- 
ception he  had  laughingly  rejoined  that  he  was 
engaged  in  keeping  companionship  with  the  hon- 
ored guest  of  the  company,  remaining  deaf  to 
the  young  knight's  fervent  assurances  that  he 
must  consider  himself  quite  free  to  ride  ahead, 
if  he  so  desired. 

"Aye,"  he  would  invariably  reply,  "I  know 
well  that  thou  art  growing  tired  of  my  prattle, 
...  eh  ?  I  wish  that  it  were  not  so,  sir  knight, 
for  I  must  do  my  devoir  by  thy  side  till  the 
trumpet  sounds  a  halt  for  the  night." 

Once  Sir  Richard  put  to  him  point  blank  the 
question  of  why  and  how  long  he  was  to  be  thus 
forcibly  detained. 

"Before  the  sun  drops  beneath  the  hills  in  the 
evening  of  to-morrow,"  de  Claverlok  replied, 
"thou  shalt  know  all.  Would  that  I  were  free  to 

138 


A   DUEL   AND   AN   ESCAPE 

tell  thee  the  story  now,  Sir  Richard,"  he  added 
with  an  honest  candor,  "but  my  lips  are  sealed 
with  an  oath  most  sacred,  .  .  .  eh!  Thou 
wouldst  not  expect  me  to  break  my  knightly  vow, 
I  know,"  upon  which  he  looked  significantly 
across  at  the  Renegade  Duke,  but  that  immacu- 
late dandy  was  busily  engaged  in  polishing  his 
nails  against  the  flowing  skirts  of  his  scarlet 
sclaveyn,  and  remained  wholly  unconscious  of  the 
implied  warning. 

One  thing,  at  least,  had  drifted  clear  of  the 
haze  within  Sir  Richard's  topsy-turvy  brain. 
Lord  Kennedy  was  the  leader,  and  had  appointed 
de  Claverlok  as  his  especial  consort.  He  wished 
heartily  that  some  accident  might  befall  to  win 
or  send  the  rugged  warrior  from  his  close  at- 
tendance upon  his  stirrup,  as  this  was  the  only 
means  through  which  he  could  hope  to  achieve 
the  end  he  had  in  mind. 

The  sun,  by  now,  was  tinting  the  western  sky 
a  rose  glow,  with  all  across  the  face  of  it  a  sweep- 
ing of  thin  and  luminously  pink  clouds.  The 
hour  had  almost  come  when  Sir  Richard  had 
promised  himself  the  felicity  of  trying  conclu- 
sions with  his  braggart  enemy  at  his  left ;  yet  here 

139 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

was  de  Claverlok  riding  unyielding  alongside,  the 
embodiment  of  everything  firm  and  loyal. 

Though  he  was  chafing  sore  under  the  re- 
straint, Sir  Richard  could  not  but  suffer  himself 
to  be  entertained  by  the  flow  of  good  humored 
talk  of  his  companion,  which  went  something 
after  the  following  fashion: 

He  had  been  told  that  Sir  Richard  had  passed 
the  greater  part  of  his  life  in  Brittany?  The 
young  knight  answered  affirmatively.  He,  too, 
the  grizzled  warrior  averred,  had  hunted,  fought, 
and  tilted  there.  There  were  maidens  in  Brittany, 
.  .  .  shy,  big-eyed,  captivating,  .  .  .  who 
had  once  regarded  him  not  unfavorably,  .  .  . 
eh !  Their  daughters,  mayhap,  had  done  the  same 
for  Sir  Richard?  "Thy  looks  doth  certes  deny 
thy  age,"  the  young  knight  had  politely  assured 
him.  Ah!  aye — but  he  was  old,  though,  .  .  . 
quite  old  enough  to  be  the  sir  knight's  father. 
Why!  once  he  had  split  a  lance  or  two  with  the 
old  Duke  Francis  himself.  And  at  the  time  when 
Henry,  Earl  of  Richmond,  now  England's  sove- 
reign ruler,  had  been  but  a  romping,  long-haired 
boy,  .  .  .  eh!  Yea,  .  .  .  and  the  sturdy 
Duke  had  come  nearer  to  unhorsing  him  than  any 

140 


A   DUEL   AND   AN    ESCAPE 

man  across  the  Channel.  He  had  been  informed 
that  the  young  sir  knight  had  once  been  Henry's 
playmate;  .  .  .  was  this  true,  ...  eh? 

He  had  indeed  been  the  companion  of  Henry, 
Sir  Richard  told  his  friendly  guard,  and  with  him 
had  shared  the  guardianship  of  Duke  Francis 
and  the  bountiful  hospitality  of  his  court. 

Then  it  may  have  been,  the  grizzled  knight 
went  on,  that  Sir  Richard  had  witnessed  that  self- 
same tournament  upon  the  field  of  Anjou,  at 
Vannes?  It  had  been  extravagantly  rich  in 
prizes,  .  .  .  that  tournament.  He  himself 
had  been  so  fortunate  as  to  win  two  barbs  and 
three  coats  of  Tuscan  mail,  .  .  .  fluted,  .  .  . 
sumptuous,  .  .  .  exquisitely  damascened.  But 
they  had  long  since  found  their  way  into  the 
rapacious  talons  of  the  Jews.  Everything  that 
he  had  ever  possessed  ...  of  any  value, 
.  .  .  saving  that  which  he  was  then  wearing, 
.  .  .  and  his  knightly  honor,  .  .  .  had  fol- 
lowed at  the  tail  of  them  into  the  same  far-reach- 
ing, ever  greedy  claws.  Yet  he  courted  no  hatred 
of  them,  .  .  .  eh!  Why  should  one?  Were 
they  not  as  necessary  to  a  gold-lean  knight,  these 
gleaners  of  worldly  wealth,  as  were  his  very 

141 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

bread  and  wine,  .  .  .  eh?  What  excuse  was 
there  for  despising  one  of  the  prime  essentials 
of  life,  he  wanted  to  know?" 

In  something  after  this  manner  the  warrior 
rambled  on.  Touching,  with  a  ponderous  grace, 
upon  any  subject  that  chanced  to  fall,  haphazard, 
into  his  mind,  not  pausing  for  a  moment  to  listen 
to  answering  comment,  or  seeming  to  expect  it: 
Sir  Richard  was  growing  convinced  that  the 
crafty  fellow  was  witness  to  the  passing  of  the 
insult  between  the  Renegade  Duke  and  himself, 
and  that  he  was  merely  talking  to  defeat  their 
avowed  purpose  of  renewing  hostilities  till  the 
hour  when  they  should  halt  for  the  night. 

There  would  be  no  duel  that  day,  and  no 
escape,  of  this  he  was  by  now  almost  certain. 
Disappointed,  chagrined,  impatient  of  his 
strange  thralldom,  and  desiring  above  all  things 
else  to  deliver  Henry's  message  to  Douglas,  he 
rode  gloomily  along,  lending  something  less  than 
half  an  ear  to  the  empty  words  that  his  stanch, 
unwavering  guard  was  volleying  into  it. 

For  a  considerable  while  the  road  had  been 
threading  between  a  pleasing  succession  of  furze 
and  thistle-grown  downs.  It  was  from  a  copse 

142 


A   DUEL   AND   AN   ESCAPE 

abutting  upon  the  highway,  when  they  were  rid- 
ing between  the  steeper  of  these,  that  a  fright- 
ened hare  scurried  in  front  of  them  across  the 
road.  Upon  the  instant  de  Claverlok  drew  rein 
and  swept  each  of  the  hillsides  with  a  swift  and 
keen  scrutiny.  The  trifling  incident  of  the  flying 
hare  was  as  the  first  eddy  of  wind  that  heralds 
the  coming  tornado ;  for,  in  almost  the  next  mo- 
ment, there  followed  the  sharp  spattering  of 
bolts  against  bonnet  and  breast-plate  and  shield. 
One  struck  fair  upon  Sir  Richard's  gorget,  caus- 
ing him  to  reel  in  his  saddle  and  his  temples  to 
throb  and  ache  with  the  shock  of  the  impact. 
Among  those  riding  ahead  the  young  knight  saw 
three  pitch  heavily  off  their  horses.  Clear  eyed 
and  iron  nerved  indeed  were  these  Scot  archers; 
men  who  could  pick  you  out  with  unerring  nicety 
the  crevice  between  gorget  and  helm,  or  the  joint 
between  pauldron  and  breast-plate.  Often,  with 
the  beaver  drawn,  they  were  known  to  flick  an 
arrow  through  the  eye-slit  without  touching 
either  side  of  the  orifice. 

After  the  first  shower  of  bolts  the  slopes  upon 
each  side  of  the  company  of  horsemen  became 
alive  with  warriors,  slipping  down  the  hill  upon 

143 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

them  like  brown  and  living  torrents.  There  was 
a  ruddy  glare  ahead,  where  the  ardent  rays  of  the 
sun,  now  setting,  were  beating  against  the  breast- 
plates of  an  advancing  foe.  Uprose,  then,  loud 
cries  of  "Douglas,  and  the  Duke  of  York!" 
"Long  live  the  White  Rose!"  which  was  met  with 
shouts  of  "Death  to  the  traitors!"  "Long  live 
Tyrrell  and  the  Duke  of  Warwick!" 

Sir  Richard  was  just  upon  the  point  of  yield- 
ing to  the  instinctive  call  that  wrould  have  placed 
him  in  the  singular  position  of  giving  battle 
against  the  enemies  of  his  supposed  own  foes, 
when  the  Renegade  Duke's  hand  fell  heavily 
upon  the  bridle  of  his  prancing  stallion. 

"Cock-shut  time  is  come!"  he  was  shouting  in 
the  young  knight's  ear.  "I  am  ready  to  obey  thy 
command  of  this  morning.  Ride  with  me  to  the 
left!" 

Quick  as  a  flash  Sir  Richard  wheeled,  and  to- 
gether they  drove  upward  along  a  narrow  road- 
way that  debouched  from  the  one  over  which  they 
had  been  traveling,  unlimbering  their  battle-axes 
as  they  sped  along. 

When  the  wooded  summit  of  the  down  inter- 
vened between  them  and  the  scene  of  the  con- 

144 


A   DUEL   AND    AN   ESCAPE 

flict,  they  drew  rein  and  went  at  it.  Whatsoever 
else  the  Renegade  Duke  may  have  been,  Sir  Rich- 
ard was  quick  to  discover  that  as  a  foeman  he 
was  not  in  the  least  to  be  despised.  Blow  after 
blow  he  was  parrying,  and  that  with  a  neatness 
and  cleverness  that  set  the  impetuous  young 
knight  somewhat  by  the  ears.  Indeed,  growing 
out  of  the  very  frenzy  of  his  eagerness,  he  real- 
ized that  his  attacks  were  losing  an  alarming 
measure  of  their  force  and  accuracy. 

There  was  now  need  of  immediate  action,  as, 
upon  the  further  side  of  the  down,  the  crash  of 
arms  seemed  to  be  subsiding.  It  was  just  as  he 
was  charging  his  antagonist  afresh  that  Sir  Rich- 
ard heard  the  thunder  of  hoof -beats  along  the 
narrow  road  upon  which  the  Duke  and  he  were 
fighting  for  their  very  lives.  Summoning  every 
vestige  of  energy  and  strength  at  his  command, 
he  aimed  a  blow  full  at  his  f oeman's  head-piece. 
When  it  appeared  to  be  upon  the  point  of  strik- 
ing, the  Renegade  Duke  executed  a  swift  demi- 
volte.  The  heavy  ax,  glancing  along  his  helm, 
clove  off  its  jaunty  white  plume,  and  crashed  fair 
upon  the  chamfron  of  his  mount.  There  fol- 
lowed then  a  momentary  reeling  and  staggering^ 

145 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

like  a  maimed  ship  in  a  sudden  gale,  whereupon 
horse  and  rider  fell,  furiously  plunging  and  kick- 
ing, into  a  thornhedge  beside  the  road. 

By  now  the  echoes  of  the  approaching  hoof- 
beats  were  reverberating  clear  and  crepitant  from 
against  the  steep  side  of  the  opposite  hill.  The 
Renegade  Duke  had  not  done  sinking  into  the 
crackling  brush  when  Sir  Richard  wheeled,  and, 
touching  rowels  lightly  to  his  stallion's  foam- 
flecked  side,  made  off  with  all  the  speed  there 
was  left  in  him. 


CHAPTER   X 

OF  A  NIGHT  IN  A  SHEPHERD'S   HUT,  AND   A 
SURPRISE    IN    THE    MORNING 

SO  far  as  qualities  of  speed  and  endurance 
were  concerned,  Sir  Richard  would  have 
willingly  matched  his  powerful  stallion 
against  any  in  Scotland.  Having  no  fear,  there- 
fore, of  the  possibility  of  his  recapture,  he  set- 
tled himself  with  some  comfort  in  his  saddle,  en- 
joying a  great  measure  of  satisfaction  in  the  be- 
lief  that  he  would  soon  outdistance  his  pursuers. 
That  he  was  indeed  being  followed  he  was  left 
in  no  manner  of  doubt,  as  not  for  a  single  instant 
did  the  ring  of  hoof-beats  pause  at  the  spot  where 
his  late  adversary  had  sprawled  so  ignominiously 
into  the  brambles. 

Being  wholly  unaware  as  to  the  number  of 
miles  that  might  stretch  away  between  himself 
and  Castle  Yewe,  he  deemed  it  unwise  to  urge  his 
mount  to  top  speed.  Besides,  the  road  along 

147 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

which  he  was  forced  to  travel  was  not  over-free 
from  scattered  boulders  and  rather  steep  of  de- 
scent. He  accordingly  contented  himself  with 
making  haste  slowly,  as  the  saying  goes,  main- 
taining a  long,  easy,  sweeping  stride,  and  observ- 
ing every  possible  precaution  against  the  acci- 
dental stumbling  or  laming  of  his  horse.  More- 
over, in  the  thin,  clear  air  of  the  uplands  the 
rattling  of  steel  hoofs  against  the  flinty  earth 
would  assuredly  carry  for  the  greater  part  of  a 
league.  For  this  reason  he  entertained  but  slight 
hope  of  throwing  his  pursuers  off  his  trail  till 
the  character  of  the  soil  became  changed. 

Twice  within  the  distance  of  the  flight  of  an 
arrow  the  road  swerved  sharply  to  the  left,  which 
rendered  it  quite  impossible,  on  account  of  the 
tangle  of  bushes  that  shot  high  above  his  crest 
on  either  hand,  to  ascertain  how  closely  they  were 
following  at  his  heels,  or  how  many  were  engaged 
in  the  chase.  At  times  he  could  have  sworn  that 
there  was  but  one.  Then,  when  he  would  be  just 
upon  the  point  of  drawing  rein,  purposing  to  try 
conclusions  with  that  which  he  supposed  to  be  his 
single  foeman,  the  surrounding  foothills  would 
carry  to  his  ears  the  echoes  of  a  battalion  of  fly- 

148 


IN   A    SHEPHERD'S    HUT 

ing  horsemen,  whereupon  he  would  touch  spurs 
to  his  stallion's  side  and  scurry  hot- footed  up 
and  down  dale  until  the  sounds  had  dwindled 
again  to  a  mere  faint  pattering  in  the  twilight 
distance. 

Two  full  hours  of  hard  riding  did  not  suffice 
materially  to  alter  the  positions  of  pursuer  and 
pursued.  By  then  the  moon  had  shot  clear  of 
the  hills,  adding  her  pallid  luster  to  the  clear, 
star-powdered  vault,  and  still  Sir  Richard  could 
catch  the  faint  pounding  of  persistent  hoofs  at 
his  back.  Arriving  presently  at  a  point  where  a 
wider  roadway  forked  to  the  left,  he  decided  to 
take  his  way  along  that.  He  was  gratified  to 
find  that  it  yielded  soft  to  the  hoof,  muffling  to  a 
considerable  extent  the  hitherto  loud  noise  of  his 
flight. 

Sprinting  madly  for  the  distance  of  something 
near  an  eighth  of  a  league,  he  dismounted  and 
led  his  tired  horse  within  the  shadows  of  a  thick 
wood,  fringing  the  highway  to  the  northward. 
Tethering  him  to  a  tree  at  a  safe  distance  from 
the  road,  he  then  retraced  his  way  rapidly  but 
cautiously  toward  the  juncture  of  the  two  high- 
roads. Purposing  through  this  simple  stratagem, 

149 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

should  chance  favor  him,  to  have  a  look  at  his 
pursuing  enemies. 

The  young  knight  enjoyed  a  quiet  laugh  at 
his  own  expense  when  he  discovered  that  his  fly- 
ing battalion  of  horsemen  had  narrowed  down  to 
one,  and  that  one,  de  Claverlok.  His  rugged 
profile  was  set  fair  against  the  enormous  face 
of  the  moon,  as  he  drew  to  a  stand  not  above  a 
dozen  feet  from  where  Sir  Richard  lay  concealed. 
Distinctly  the  young  knight  could  see  his  griz- 
zled head,  a  silhouette  of  black  against  a  yellow 
circle,  showing  as  clear  and  clean  cut  as  a  finely 
chiseled  statue. 

It  was  easy  to  gather  that  de  Claverlok  was  in 
two  minds  whether  to  go  straight  ahead,  or  to 
turn  to  his  left  into  the  forking  roadway.  Now 
he  was  inclining  his  head  in  a  listening  attitude. 
From  away  in  the  distance,  and  ever  so  faintly, 
came  the  clatter  of  the  galloping  hoofs  of  a  single 
horseman.  This  sound  set  an  instant  period  to 
the  grizzled  knight's  perplexity.  Forthwith  he 
turned  his  charger's  head  straight  to  the  north- 
ward, and  in  a  flash  was  spurring  furiously  from 
the  vicinity  of  the  bushes  where  Sir  Richard  lay 
hidden. 

150 


IN   A   SHEPHERD'S   HUT 

Keeping  well  in  the  brush,  the  young  knight 
waited  till  the  noise  of  de  Claverlok's  flight  had 
merged  within  the  solemn  quiet  of  the  night; 
then,  returning  to  where  he  had  tethered  his 
horse,  he  led  him  to  the  highway,  mounted, 
and,  after  somewhat  of  a  less  impetuous  fash- 
ion than  before  again  resumed  his  lonely  jour- 
ney. 

He  had  ample  leisure  thereafter  to  indulge 
himself  in  meditation.  Indeed  the  young  knight 
was  enjoying  his  first  quiet  interval  since  his  en- 
trance into  the  Red  Tavern  and  his  meeting  with 
Tyrrell,  whom  he  still  regarded  as  nothing  more 
than  a  most  extraordinary  inn-keeper.  Again 
his  mind  reverted  to  the  maiden ;  he  recalled  with 
a  thrill  of  pleasure  her  soft  whisper,  and  the  kiss 
through  the  wall.  He  thought  of  the  bit  of  cloth 
and  the  note,  and  immediately  grew  less  lonely 
than  before.  They  yielded  him  a  sweet  compan- 
ionship that  he  was  quite  willing  to  accept  with- 
out attempting  to  define.  Through  his  ardent 
maze  of  speculation,  however,  Nature  obtruded 
with  her  realities,  and  he  became  conscious  of  the 
keen,  frost-laden  air,  and  of  his  fatigue  and 

hunger.    He  was  ready  to  admit  that  the  twin- 

151 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

kling  lights  of  an  inn  would  have  afforded  him 
a  most  welcome  and  agreeable  sight. 

Sir  Richard  was  destined  to  be  denied  this 
pleasing  spectacle,  as  he  had  now  ridden  as  far 
as  discretion  allowed  without  glimpsing  a  sign  of 
a  habitable  shelter.  But  as  he  drew  clear  of  the 
forest  he  caught  sight  of  a  hut  that  stood  not  far 
from  the  road  within  an  open  meadow.  He  rode 
up  to  it,  discovering  it  to  be  an  abandoned  shep- 
herd's dwelling,  bleak,  uninviting,  and  dreary. 
Between  this  and  the  cosy  corner  of  an  inn 
abounding  in  appetizing  odors  was  something  of 
a  far  cry  to  be  sure.  But  it  was  the  best  that 
seemed  likely  to  offer  for  the  night;  and,  deso- 
late, lonely,  and  utterly  cheerless  as  it  was,  he 
nevertheless  gave  thanks  for  the  mere  rude  thatch 
that  would  at  least  protect  him  from  the  tingling 
air.  A  rough  lean-to  had  been  constructed 
against  the  side  of  the  hut  beneath  which  he  se- 
cured his  horse,  a  great  armful  of  half -dried 
grass  serving  for  the  animal's  feed.  Once  in- 
side the  hovel,  by  tearing  out  a  plank  or  two 
from  the  rotting  floor  and  disposing  them  within 
the  rude  fireplace  he  soon  contrived  to  kindle  a 
blaze  that  warmed  him  pleasantly  to  sleep. 

152 


IN   A    SHEPHERD'S    HUT 

So  fatigued  was  he  that,  in  despite  of  his  hun- 
ger and  thirst,  his  slumber  was  of  the  soundest. 
Perhaps  the  assurance  that  he  would  likely 
awaken  in  the  same  spot  where  he  had  closed  his 
eyes  contributed  its  mite  to  his  comfort  of  mind 
and  body.  At  all  events  he  remained  undis- 
turbed till  well  along  in  the  morning.  When  he 
aroused  himself  and  opened  his  eyes  the  slanting 
rays  of  the  sun  were  falling  fair  upon  them 
through  the  sashless  window  that  opened  upon  a 
f airylike  view  of  hill  and  forest.  He  was  stretch- 
ing and  yawning  himself  more  fully  awake  when 
he  was  startled  suddenly  into  that  condition  by 
a  huge  shadow  moving  across  the  devastated 
floor.  He  looked  once;  then,  rubbing  his  thor- 
oughly surprised  eyes,  looked  again. 

Upon  the  sagged  doorsill  sat  the  ubiquitous 
de  Claverlok.  He  seemed  quite  unaware  of  the 
young  knight's  awakening,  being  busily  intent 
upon  the  burnishing  of  his  helmet,  and  cocking 
his  grizzled  head  drolly  from  one  shoulder  to  the 
other  the  while  he  held  his  gleaming  bonnet  at 
arm's  length  the  better  to  view  and  admire  the 
result  of  his  lusty  rubbing.  The  glittering  top- 
piece,  catching  a  ray  of  the  sun,  shunted  it 

153 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

straight  into  Sir  Richard's  dazzled  eyes.  For  a 
second  or  two  thereafter  he  could  see  nothing 
above  a  brilliant  splotch  of  red,  with  the  massive 
outline  of  de  Claverlok  looming  gigantic  in  its 
center. 

When  he  was  recovered  of  his  transitory 
blindness,  he  made  a  hasty  examination  of  the 
wall  against  which  he  had  constructed  his  bed  of 
leaves  and  boughs.  Saving  for  a  narrow  vent- 
hole  set  high  above  the  floor,  and  in  the  corner 
of  the  room  farthest  from  where  he  was  lying,  it 
was  unpierced  by  door  or  window.  Sir  Richard 
could  not  restrain  a  smile  of  quiet  amusement  as 
he  thought  of  the  famous  prank  he  might  have 
played  upon  the  unconquerable  old  warrior  had 
there  been  a  sufficient  opening  near  at  hand  to 
give  exit  to  his  body. 

As  it  was,  .  .  .  "Well!"  he  shouted  at  de 
Claverlok  upon  a  sudden,  and  at  the  very  limit 
of  his  lungs. 

Deliberately,  and  with  the  most  impassive  un- 
concern, the  grizzled  knight  set  his  helmet  upon 
his  head. 

"Give  thee  a  right  good-morrow,  Sir  Rich- 
ard," said  he,  smiling  broad  and  friendlywise 

154 


IN   A    SHEPHERD'S    HUT 

over  his  shoulder.  "Judging  from  the  quality  of 
thy  slumber,  I  should  say  that  thy  conscience  is 
mightily  clear  and  babelike,  .  .  .  eh?" 

"Clearer   it   should   be   than   thine, 
leech!"  Sir  Richard  retorted.    "Much  am  I  per- 
plexed over  thy  presence  within  this  hut  this 
morning.    Methought  that  yester  eve  I  had  bade 
thee  adieu  for  all." 

"Aye,  .  .  .  and  good  quittance,  well  rid- 
dance, thou  didst  think,  .  .  .  eh?  But  thou 
wert  remiss,  my  son,  in  not  bethinking  thee  to 
yield  me  a  parting  handclasp.  I  am  come  to  re- 
mind thee  of  thy  discourteous  oversight,  and, 
what's  better,  to  offer  thee  wherewith  to  break 
thy  fast." 

"Thou  dost  but  mock  mine  hunger,  de  Clav- 
erlok,  which  is  most  ill  beseeming  from  an  un- 
bidden guest  within  my  door." 

"Pooh,  pooh!  guest  within  thy  door,  indeed. 
'Tis  thou  who  art  jesting  now,  ...  eh!  But, 
i'  truth,  I  am  not  mocking  thee,  sir  knight,"  pro- 
tested de  Claverlok.  "Why,  thinkest  thou  that 
these  bonnie  plains  and  downs  are  barren  of 
grain  and  fowl,  .  .  .  eh?  Or  that  my  hand 
and  tongue  have  lost  their  cunning?  But,  tell 

155 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

me,  my  good  Sir  Richard,  art  indeed  bereft  of 
thy  nostrils?" 

When  the  young  knight  raised  himself  upon 
his  elbow  he  became  aware  of  the  appetizing  odor 
of  a  roasting  fowl,  which  had  not  quite  dropped 
to  the  level  of  his  reclining  head.  In  the  fire- 
place behind  him  he  saw  that  it  had  all  along  been 
sizzling  upon  an  improvised  spit,  and  that  beside 
it  there  was  an  iron  pot  that  was  sending  its 
cloud  of  steam  merrily  up  the  deep  black  throat 
of  the  chimney. 

"I  observe,"  said  Sir  Richard,  rising  and  go- 
ing to  the  door,  "that  thou  art  ever  thoughtful 
of  the  inner  man.  But,  withal,  de  Claverlok,  I 
like  thee  right  well,  and  were  it  not  that  thou  hast 
designed  to  constitute  thyself  my  guardian  and 
captor,  full  gladly  would  I  call  thee  friend." 

"Your  hand,  Sir  Dick,  and  let  us  say  'tis  so. 
Your  good  friend  and  true  have  I  been  since 
first  I  clapt  my  eyes  upon  your  fresh  and  open 
countenance,  .  .  .  eh!  By  Saint  Dunstan, 
'  but  I  wish  that  I  dared  tell  you  a  thing  or  twain 
as  to  the  reason  for  my  guardianship,"  he  added 
fervently.  "That  I  am  such  is  the  fault  of  an 
untoward  circumstance  of  which  for  the  present 

156 


IN   A    SHEPHERD'S    HUT 

you  must  perforce  remain  ignorant.  That  I  am 
your  captor,  .  .  .  well,"  he  laughed,  "and 
whose  fault  is  't,  .  .  .  eh?  You  were  a  free 
man  but  y ester  night,  my  boy." 

"Aye,"  returned  Sir  Richard;  "and  ill  did  I 
conduct  the  business  of  eluding  you.  But,  marry, 
man!  Here's  my  hand  of  friendship,  for  as 
friend  I  insist  upon  regarding  you — and  not 
captor — my  good  de  Claverlok." 

Smiling  broadly,  the  grizzled  knight  grasped 
and  heartily  shook  the  young  knight's  proffered 
hand. 

"From  this  old  tongue,"  said  he,  "you  shall 
hear  no  denial  of  your  claim.  But  a  truce  to  soft 
sayings,  .  .  .  eh?  The  fowl  doth  cry  aloud 
from  yon  spit.  The  ale  is  mulled  to  that  degree 
of  perfection  where  it  would  tickle  the  palate  of 
Epicurus  himself.  The  air  is  growing  heavy 
with  the  fragrance  of  toasting  cheese.  Let  us, 
I  pray  you,  break  our  fasts  and  be  off.  Our 
journey  doth  stretch  long  before  us,  and  the  day 
grows  apace." 

They  thereupon  sat  down  together  upon  the 
doorsill,  the  hollow  of  de  Claverlok's  broad  and 
scrupulously  burnished  shield  serving  as  salver 

157 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

for  the  meat,  bread  and  cheese.  They  took  turns 
at  the  ale  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  earthen  jug 
beside  them.  When  they  had  finished  breakfast- 
ing, they  went  to  the  lean-to  and  made  ready 
their  horses. 

"Do  our  ways  diverge  at  yonder  road?"  care- 
lessly asked  Sir  Richard,  as  he  swung  himself  into 
his  saddle.  "Or  shall  I  be  so  fortunate  as  to 
have  you  for  my  companion  during  a  part  of 
my  journey?" 

"Well,  ...  by  the  sun  that  warms  us! 
Marry,  but  you  are  a  refreshing  youth!"  ex- 
claimed de  Claverlok,  adjusting  his  breast-plate 
and  gathering  his  buckler  over  his  left  arm.  "An 
I  wot  my  name,  Sir  Richard,  you  are  to  journey 
wherever  I  lead,  .  .  .  eh!" 

"Be  in  a  hurry  then,  my  friend,"  suggested 
the  young  knight  pleasantly,  but  firmly,  "to  be- 
come again  acquainted  with  yourself.  I  go  my 
own  way,  sir,  e'en  an  my  sword  or  lance  must 
reckon  with  the  hindrance." 

By  this  time  the  grizzled  warrior  was  seated  in 
his  saddle,  and  had  gathered  his  reins  in  his  hand 
for  the  start. 

"Which  direction  is  it  your  wish  to  travel,  my 
158 


A    SHEPHERD'S    HUT 

son,  .  .  .  eh?"  he  inquired,  making  as  if  to 
submit  to  Sir  Richard's  desire. 

Withdrawing  a  chart  out  of  the  wallet  dan- 
gling from  his  baldric,  and  making  note  of  the 
position  of  the  sun  and  the  length  of  the  shadows, 
the  young  knight  indicated,  without  speaking,  a 
point  midway  between  north  and  northwest  upon 
the  glowing  line  of  the  sky  and  hill. 

"By  'r  Lady!"  exclaimed  de  Claverlok,  caus- 
ing his  armor  to  jingle  with  the  heartiness  of  his 
laughter,  "but  I  am  fair  sorry  that  you  are  not 
ignorant  of  every  trick  of  travel-lore  and  wood- 
craft, else  might  I  have  conducted  you  to  a  place 
not  so  imminently  dangerous  to  your  hand- 
some— He  ended  the  sentence  by  touch- 
ing his  head  and  sweeping  his  hand  in  a  cir- 
cular motion  around  the  base  of  his  corded 
neck. 

"Methinks  'tis  an  easy  hazard,"  returned  Sir 
Richard  lightly;  "and  I  have  made  choice  of  ac- 
cepting it.  The  choice  was  made  for  me  before 
I  started,  I  should  have  said.  An  our  ways  lie 
together,  though,  friend  de  Claverlok,  mayhap 
you  would  spare  the  time  to  show  me  how  to  pick 
up  a  trail  by  moonlight.  'Tis  a  right  pretty  trick 

159 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

— and  after  flying  after  a  false  scent,  too.  A 
right  pretty  trick." 

"Yea — and  the  very  devil's  own  time  had  I  to 
compass  it.  What  with  the  going  astray,  and 
the  getting  down  on  my  knees  in  the  dust,  I  had 
scarce  an  hour's  rest  between  the  welcome  sight 
of  you  asleep  within  the  hut  and  sunrise,  .  .  . 
eh !  I  wot  you  were  watching  me  beside  the  road 
near  the  fork,  for  I  saw  your  marks  along  the 
thornhedge.  A  right  nice  prank  that  was  to  play 
on  an  old  campaigner,  .  .  .  eh?  And  am  I  a 
night-capped  grand-dam,  think  you,  to  lose  that 
which  has  cost  me  so  much  to  gain?  I'll  be 
damned,  Sir  Dick,  an  you  are  not  this  moment  my 
captive,  .  .  .  eh!" 

"Right  glad  am  I  to  claim  you  friend,  de  Clav- 
erlok,"  maintained  Sir  Richard,  guiding  his  horse 
toward  the  highway;  "but  I  must  deny  you  the 
right  to  call  yourself  my  captor.  My  first  escape 
was  an  honorable  one,  effected  through  force  of 
arms.  An  I  must  escape  again,  let  it  be  in  the 
same  manner.  Though  much  do  I  regret  that  our 
friendship  should  end  thus.  I  leave  to  thee,  sir 
knight,  the  choice  of  weapons." 

"Fiends  and  furies  fly  away  with  every  kind  of 
160 


A    SHEPHERD'S    HUT 

weapon!"  roared  de  Claverlok;  "an  they  are  to  be 
wielded  between  you  and  me.  Would  I  be  keep- 
ing my  knightly  vow  by  spitting  you  upon  my 
lance's  head,  .  .  .  eh?  By  the  Rood!  You 
would  tempt  me  to  set  myself  in  a  class  with  that 
foul  toad,  the  Renegade  Duke,  .  .  .  eh?  Ah! 
but  how  I  did  laugh  to  see  him  kicking  and  curs- 
ing amidst  the  thorns.  I  would  you  had  put  an 
end  to  him,  Sir  Dick.  Yesterday,  an  I  wot  my- 
self, began  a  tale  of  black  treachery,  my  young 
friend,  to  which  the  false  head  of  that  court 
dandy  shall  furnish  an  appropriate  and  bloody 
period." 

By  this  time  they  had  come  to  the  road  where, 
as  though  by  common  consent,  they  reined  to  a 
halt  for  further  parley. 

"An  you  refuse  to  give  me  battle,  de  Claver- 
lok," said  Sir  Richard  a  trifle  impatiently,  "you 
must  permit  me  to  take  my  own  way,  as  I  am 
determined  not  to  go  yours,  unless  indeed  it  be 
in  a  helpless  and  disabled  condition,  and  trussed 
fast  to  the  back  of  your  barb.  How  say  you,  sir 
knight?" 

"How  say  I,  ...  eh?"  muttered  the  griz- 
zled warrior  within  his  curly  beard.  "What  can  I 

161 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

say,  would  be  more  to  the  point,  it  would  appear. 
The  hungry  vultures,  I'll  swear,  would  be  the 
only  gainers  from  a  tilt  at  arms  between  us.  And 
beshrew  me,  Sir  Dick,  an  I  am  of  a  mind  to  strew 
the  sward  with  your  precious  body.  As  for  mine 
— well — I  am  not  so  partial  to  vultures  as  to  wish 
to  feast  them  upon  my  carcase.  But  tell  me,"  he 
added,  looking  keenly  into  the  young  knight's 
eyes,  "why  are  you  so  stubbornly  determined 
upon  making  your  way  into  Castle  Yewe ;  can  it 
be  that  Douglas  is  your  friend,  .  .  .  eh?  You 
know  full  well  that  you  have  not  the  King's 
paper." 

"And  a  right  sorry  moment  it  was  for  me  when 
I  permitted  it  to  be  stolen,"  returned  Sir  Richard 
with  an  angry  frown.  "Aye — it  is  true  that  I 
cannot  now  deliver  the  original,  but  I  have  a  copy, 
my  shrewd  friend — a  copy,  hear  you?  And  I 
mean  to  place  it  within  Lord  Douglas's  hand  as 
swiftly  as  my  steed  can  bear  me  within  the  sally- 
port of  Yewe.  Was  your  hand,  de  Claverlok, 
concerned  in  the  purloining  of  the  original?"  he 
finished  sharply. 

"Nay — not  mine.  A  copy  say  you,  .  .  eh? 
God !  what  a  mess  of  pottage  is  this !  You  could 

162 


IN  A   SHEPHERD'S   HUT 

not  be  prevailed  upon  to  rip  this  parchment  open 
and  read  its  contents,  .  .  .  ?" 

"Well,  by  my  soul!  What  says  the  man!"  ex- 
claimed Sir  Richard  indignantly.  "Friend  or  no 
friend,  de  Claverlok,  another  word  from  you 
upon  that  score  and  there'll  be  an  end  of  peace 
between  us" ;  whereupon,  urging  his  horse  into  a 
swinging  canter,  he  set  off  in  the  general  direc- 
tion of  Castle  Yewe. 

"So,  .  .  .  lead  on,  Sir  Dick!"  shouted  the 
grizzled  warrior,  setting  spurs  to  his  mount's  side 
and  quickly  galloping  beside  Sir  Richard.  "I  am 
at  once  your  captor  and  your  slave.  Your  fol- 
lower and  your  guide.  Saint  Dunstan  grant  me 
the  strength  to  keep  your  foolish  head  from  harm. 
And  when  you're  done  with  thrusting  yourself 
into  hornet's  nests,  .  .  .  eh!  then  shall  I  be 
waiting  to  lead  you  to  a  place  of  temporary  peace 
and  safety." 

"Temporary  safety?"  queried  Sir  Richard. 
"What  mean  you  by  that,  de  Claverlok?" 

"  'Twill  be  but  temporary,"  the  young  knight's 
companion  asserted  warningly.  "There  are  many 
things  that  this  moment  must  seem  full  strange 

to  you,     .    .    .    eh?    Yea — but,  an  I  can  keep 

163 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

your  head  upon  your  shoulders  through  this  wild 
adventure,  it  will  be  but  to  yield  you  into  another 
hornet's  nest  awaiting  you  in  the  end,"  he  fin- 
ished somberly. 


CHAPTER   XI 

OF  HOW  SIR  RICHARD  CAME  TO  CASTLE  YEWE 

THE  grizzled  knight's  prophecy  of  an  evil 
time  yet  to  come  provided  the  young 
knight  with  much  material  for  thought, 
without,  however,  worrying  him  in  the  least.  He 
was  unable  to  surmise  even  remotely  what  dire 
happening  it  was  meant  to  foretell.  Sir  Richard 
was  without  vaulting  ambitions  to  achieve  distinc- 
tion or  power;  had  never  been  entangled  in  any 
political  movement ;  or  concerned  in  any  conspira- 
cies; or  acquainted,  so  far  as  he  was  aware,  with 
the  instigators  of  them.  He  had  always  held 
carefully  aloof  from  matters  pertaining  to  the 
more  serious  business  of  Henry's  court.  Seek- 
ing only  to  gather  the  full  measure  of  enjoyment 
out  of  life,  it  had  always  been  his  wish,  withal, 
to  be  regarded  as  an  efficient  soldier  and  faithful 
and  obedient  servant  of  his  king.  In  his  earnest 
desire  to  shine  among  the  chivalric  lights  of  his 

165 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

time,  he  brought  up  at  the  point  of  being  dream- 
ily visionary.  Why  he  was  thus  suddenly  become 
the  center  of  a  dizzying  maelstrom  of  mysterious 
occurrences  was  quite  beyond  him  to  fathom ;  but 
he  was  none  the  less  keen  in  his  enjoyment  of  the 
situation,  its  inscrutability  appealing  forcibly  to 
his  imagination. 

As  he  rode  onward  beside  his  captor-compan- 
ion, he  gave  frequent  verbal  expression  to  the 
questions  perplexing  him,  but  without  exception 
de  Claverlok's  replies  were  the  embodiment  of  re- 
moteness. He  was  open,  however,  in  his  refer- 
ences to  the  perils  that  surely  awaited  Sir  Richard 
inside  the  walls  of  Yewe.  His  warnings  were 
poured  into  unheeding  ears,  as  the  thought  upper- 
most in  Sir  Richard's  mind  was  to  reach  there  as 
quickly  as  his  horse  could  accomplish  the  journey. 
The  veteran  warrior  had  been  revolving  in  his 
mind  the  subject  of  his  oath  of  secrecy  made  to 
Tyrrell,  and  whether  it  involved  the  keeping  of 
the  contents  of  Henry's  warrant  from  its  bearer. 
He  concluded  finally  to  make  use  of  every  other 
means  that  came  to  hand  to  keep  his  young  friend, 
for  whom  he  was  already  entertaining  a  senti- 
ment of  real  affection,  from  delivering  the  parch- 

166 


TO    CASTLE   YEWE 

ment  to  Douglas.  Failing  of  success,  he  would, 
as  a  last  resort,  expose  the  duplicity  of  the 
King  by  laying  bare  the  purport  of  the  docu- 
ment. 

"I  have  your  word,  de  Claverlok,"  Sir  Richard 
interrupted  the  warrior's  thoughts,  "that  you  are 
well  acquainted  with  the  country  hereabouts?" 

"Yea— that  I  am,  Sir  Dick." 

"Tell  me  then,"  the  young  knight  inquired^ 
"how  many  leagues  is  it  from  here  to  Yewe?" 

"Marry,  and  is  it  true  you  do  not  know,  .  .  . 
eh?"  returned  the  grizzled  knight,  shooting  a 
shrewd  interrogative  glance  in  the  direction  of 
his  companion. 

"Not  I.  An  I  had,  my  friend,  I  had  not  be- 
sought your  information,"  said  Sir  Richard. 

"Aye— eh!  Most  truly  said.  Well,"  de  Clav- 
erlok replied,  hesitating  while  he  made  a  count 
upon  his  fingers,  "not  above  two  days'  journey, 
I  should  say,"  he  glibly  misled  his  companion. 

"So  far  as  that?  Well,  by  my  faith!  I  wish 
you  had  said  not  above  two  hours,"  remarked  Sir 
Richard  regretfully.  "But  how  see  you,  my 
friend,"  he  thereupon  added,  pointing  his  finger 
directly  ahead  of  them  down  the  road;  "an  I  mis- 

167 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

take  me  not,  in  yonder  valley  beside  the  fork  of 
the  road  doth  set  an  inn?" 

"Aye — that  it  is.  The  good  Stag  and  Hounds ; 
right  well  do  I  know  its  jovial  keeper.  There, 
Sir  Dick,  may  we  dine,  drink  our  fill,  and  while 
away  a  pleasant  hour  in  reading  out  of  your 
Tales  of— of- 

"Canterbury,  do  you  mean?"  suggested  Sir 
Richard. 

"Canterbury — aye,  of  a  truth,  that's  it,  my 
young  friend.  Beshrew  me  an  I  have  not  the 
devil's  own  time  with  remembering  names,  .  .  . 
eh!  You  have  this  Canterbury  business  within 
your  saddle-pouch,  I  heard  you  say.  I  would 
hear  you  read  somewhat  out  of  it,  .  .  .eh !" 

"This  fondness  of  yours  for  written  tales  is 
certes  something  of  a  recent  acquirement," 
laughed  Sir  Richard.  "Only  this  morning,  an  I 
remember  me  aright,  did  you  scoff  at  my  keeping 
it  beside  me ;  yea — and  did  heap  scathing  ridicule 
upon  the  head  of  the  scholar,  Erasmus,  when  I 
spoke  of  my  admiration  for  him." 

"I  did  but  say,"  protested  the  grizzled  knight 
in  all  seriousness,  "that  the  scholar's  nose  was  an 
uncommon  long  member,  ...  eh!  And  that 

168 


TO    CASTLE    YEWE 

his  bookish  business  made  him  to  be  devilishly  thin 
and  pallid.  I  have  a  strong  liking  for  tales,  let 
me  tell  you  that,  Sir  Dick.  You'll  read  me  out 
of  them,  .  .  .  eh?" 

"Sorry  I  am  to  deny  you,  my  good  friend," 
the  young  knight  replied,  "but  I  dare  not  steal 
the  time  from  the  doing  of  my  errand.  I  shall 
but  tarry  in  the  Stag  and  Hounds  to  feed  and 
rest  my  barb.  But  here's  a  challenge  for  you,  de 
Claverlok,"  he  added,  gathering  his  loose  reins 
well  within  his  grasp.  "The  last  man  to  dismount 
before  the  steps  of  the  tavern  shall  foot  up  score 
for  horse  and  man.  What  say  you?  Come,  my 
hearty  warrior,  show  me  the  vaunted  mettle  of 
your  steed!" 

"I  have  you,  Sir  Dick!"  instantly  agreed  the 
grizzled  knight;  whereupon  they  started  off  to- 
gether, with  dust  and  pebbles  flying  thick  in  their 
train  from  the  swiftness  of  their  flight. 

De  Claverlok's  animal  was  exceptionally  deep- 
breasted  and  powerful,  and  a  near  match  for  Sir 
Richard's  in  speed.  For  quite  a  distance  they 
clipped  it  neck  and  neck  along  the  road.  About 
midway  between  them  and  the  goal  against  which 
they  were  flinging  there  rode  a  solitary  horseman. 

169 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

He  was  garbed  in  the  habit  of  a  monk,  with  the 
cowl  drawn  well  down  over  his  head.  The  mad 
volleying  of  hoofs  caused  the  rider  to  uncover,  as 
the  racers  drew  near,  and  shoot  a  glance  of  won- 
derment in  their  direction.  Even  with  the  fleet- 
ing view  thus  afforded  him,  Sir  Richard  re- 
marked that  the  rugged,  lean,  and  livid-scarred 
countenance  appeared  singularly  incongruous 
within  the  brown  frame  of  a  monk's  hood.  It 
was  like  anything  but  that  of  a  peace-loving 
ascetic.  So  intent  was  the  young  knight  upon 
winning  his  race,  however,  that  he  failed  to  notice 
the  unusually  sharp  angles  where  the  robe  fell 
away  from  the  horseman's  knees  and  elbows. 
Neither  was  he  sufficiently  acute  to  observe  that 
his  rapidly  forging  to  the  fore  of  de  Claverlok 
was  coincident  with  the  swift  uplifting  of  the 
traveler's  cowl. 

He  swept  on  down  to  the  door  of  the  Stag  and 
Hounds,  and  reining  his  stallion  to  its  haunches 
beneath  the  creaking  sign  that  hung  above  it,  he 
flung  himself  from  off  his  saddle  in  time  to  see 
the  monk  look  rather  hastily  back  toward  the  tav- 
ern, mark  the  stations  of  the  cross  in  the  air  with 
exaggerated  gestures  above  de  Claverlok's  bowed 

170 


TO    CASTLE   YEWE 

head,  and  disappear  at  a  round  gallop  over  the 
hill. 

The  grizzled  knight  then  rode  leisurely  down 
to  where  Sir  Richard  stood  waiting  for  him,  his 
rugged  face  beaming  with  smiles. 

"Your  barb's  hoofs  spurned  the  earth  too 
swiftly  for  us  to  bear  him  company,"  said  he, 
dismounting  beside  the  young  knight,  "so  I  yield- 
ed to  you  the  palm  of  speed,  and  added  to  the 
total  of  my  score  by  tossing  yon  pious  church- 
man a  noble.  Mayhap  I  may  be  the  gainer 
through  achieving  absolution  from  divers  of  my 
recent  sins,  .  .  .  eh?  What,  ho  there,  Mac- 
Whuddy !"  he  shouted  at  the  inn-keeper,  who  was 
smiling,  rubbing  his  pudgy  hands  together,  and 
bowing  within  the  door.  "Send  thy  groom, 
MacWhuddy,  and  have  me  these  barbs  fed  and 
curried  whilst  we  have  somewhat  of  your  best  to 
eat  and  drink.  By  my  soul,  MacWhuddy,  but 
thou'rt  growing  of  a  size,"  he  went  on  in  a  ro- 
bustious way  after  the  groom  had  come  forward 
to  relieve  them  of  their  horses.  "Bigger  and  fat- 
ter than  ever,  ...  eh?  'Tis  a  right  healthful 
business,  this  keeping  of  an  inn,  .  .  ,  eh? 
Nothing  but  eat  and  drink,  and  drink  and  eat 

171 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

from  day's  end  to  day's  end,  and  trade  jokes  from 
the  benchside  with  the  toiling  traveler  that 
gorges  thy  till.  When  I  get  me  done  with  this 
fighting,  I'll  have  me  a  tavern  with  a  warm  cor- 
ner, a  soft  seat,  and  a  full  flagon  ever  at  hand, 
.  .  .  eh!  Sir  Dick?" 

"I  could  never  picture  you,  my  pugnacious 
friend,  without  your  ready  sword  and  buckler," 
laughed  the  young  knight.  "But  make  haste, 
MacWhuddy,"  he  added,  turning  toward  the  inn- 
keeper. "We  would  quickly  bait  ourselves  and 
be  away  upon  our  travels.  Hold!  one  moment, 
my  good  fellow.  Cannot  you  tell  me  whether 
this  road  leads  to  Castle  Yewe?  and  how  many 
leagues — 

"Pooh — pooh !"  interrupted  de  Claverlok  loud- 
ly. "And  what  doth  MacWhuddy  know,  pray, 
.  .  .  eh?  Why,  by  my  faith,  scarce  his  own 
name,  Sir  Dick !  Saint  Dunstan  hear  me,  an  he 
keeps  him  not  his  scores  upon  a  notched  stick,  I'll 
eat  him  for  a  flitch  of  bacon.  Get  you  gone, 
MacWhuddy,"  he  roared,  when  the  puzzled  inn- 
keeper made  as  if  to  protest.  "Bring  in  the  meat, 
MacWhuddy,  and  not  a  word  out  of  your 
blessed  pate,  or  I'll  roll  you  like  one  of  your 

172 


TO    CASTLE    YEWE 

own  wine  butts  through  yon  door,  MacWhuddy, 
.  .  .  eh!" 

"I  wish  that  you  would  have  expended  your 
wasted  energies  in  bidding  the  fellow  make 
haste,"  said  Sir  Richard,  who  was  much  mys- 
tified by  his  companion's  sudden  display  of  irri- 
tability. 

"Haste?  He'll  make  haste,  will  MacWhuddy 
— he's  built  for  't,  .  .  .  eh?"  observed  de 
Claverlok  with  a  dry  laugh.  But  where's  the 
blessed  groom,  ...  eh?  I  would  have  him 
to — ah!  here  he  comes  now.  Hey,  you,  fellow;" 
he  called  to  the  hostler,  who  was  just  about  to  set 
his  foot  inside  the  door,  "bring  us  a  book  you'll 
find  in  the  left  saddle  pouch  upon  the  back  of  the 
black  horse.  Why  stand  you  there  twirling  your 
cap  and  mouthing  like  a  drunken  tarry-Jack, 
.  .  .  eh?  Fetch  us  the  book,  I  say !" 

"I  canna  un'erstan'  thee,  worshipful  marster," 
mumbled  the  thoroughly  frightened  menial. 
"What  are  a  bo-o-ke,  good  sir?  Be  it  some'at  to 
eat,  or  some'at  to  drink — or  some'at  f'r  th' 
hoorses,  mayhap?" 

"Well,  by  Saint  Dunstan!  Know  you  not 
what  a  book  is,  ...  eh?"  roared  the  grizzled 

173 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

knight,  springing  up  from  his  seat  beside  a  table 
and  starting  for  the  dumfounded  groom.  "I'll 
have  the  flat  of  my  sword  at  your  hinder  quarters 
for  a  doddering  void-pate!"  whereupon,  with  a 
great  show  of  anger,  he  made  through  the  door 
in  a  furious  pursuit  of  the  innocent  offender. 
"A  book,  I  tell  you — "  Sir  Richard  could  hear 
de  Claverlok  having  it  out  with  the  groom  in  the 
yard;  "a  handful  of  paper  with  a  board  stuck 
fast  upon  each  end — do  you  hear  me,  .  .  . 
eh?" 

The  noise  died  away  presently.  Sir  Richard 
supposed  that  his  mercurial  companion  was  en- 
gaged in  rummaging  for  the  book ;  but  the  griz- 
zled knight  had  beckoned  the  inn-keeper  to  his 
side  and  was  threatening  him  with  every  descrip- 
tion of  chastisement  if  he  but  dared  to  intimate 
to  his  young  friend  within  the  location  or  dis- 
tance of  Castle  Yewe. 

"An  the  sir  knight  asks  me  again,  what  shall  I 
tell  him?"  queried  the  landlord. 

"Oh,  anything,  MacWhuddy,  and  be  damned 
to  you!  Anything  but  the  truth." 

When  de  Claverlok  came  into  the  tap-room  he 
was  puffing  and  blowing  at  a  tremendous  rate 

174 


TO    CASTLE   YEWE 

and  carrying  the  vellum-bound  volume  under  his 
arm. 

"Come  now,  Sir  Dick,"  he  started  off  in  a 
wheedling  tone,  "read  me  one  of  these  tales  of — 
oh — how  say  you  that  name  again,  .  .  .  eh?'* 

"De  Claverlok,"  observed  Sir  Richard  dryly, 
"y°ur  love  of  literature  has  grown  to  be  of  an 
intensity  indeed.  But  your  laggard  memory 
halts  and  stumbles  and  plays  traitor  by  refusing 
to  keep  pace  with  it.  I  have  said  before,  my  zeal- 
ous friend,  that  it  would  ill  beseem  me  to  tarry 
here  in  idle  reading.  Nay — another  time,  good 
scholar.  Another  time!  Another  time!  Here 
comes  our  host's  pretty  daughter  with  the  meat 
and  drink.  Let  us  refresh  ourselves  quickly  and 
be  away." 

"Then,"  said  de  Claverlok,  "I'll  return  the 
book  to  its  place  within  your " 

As  he  spoke  he  arose  from  his  stool,  and  just 
at  the  moment  when  the  serving-maid  was  about 
to  set  the  platter  upon  the  table.  They  collided 
violently,  scattering  the  food  and  wine  over  the 
sanded  floor. 

De  Claverlok  wheeled,  straightened,  set  his 
hands  upon  his  hips,  and  with  a  look  as  though 

175 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

all  the  world  was  conspiring  to  do  him  injury, 
regarded  the  cowering,  half-tearful  maid. 

"Well — what  fiend's  in  this  blessed  place,  .  .  . 
eh?"  he  bellowed.  "Look  you  at  this  mess  upon 
the  floor,  you  awkward  body!  And  here  the  sir 
knight  yonder  is  fair  aching  to  be  upon  his  way. 
An  you  wore  not  kirtles,  I'd  have  the  flat  of  my 
hand  at  your  ears  for  a  blundering  dunce,  .  .  . 
eh!" 

The  serving-maid  turned  an  appealing  glance 
in  Sir  Richard's  direction. 

"I'll  fetch  thee  more,  sir  knight,"  she  said. 
"In  truth,  I  meant  not  to  spill  the  things,  noble 
sir." 

"Fret  not  yourself,  good  maid,"  said  Sir  Rich- 
ard kindly.  "Nay — I  wot  well  it  was  not  your 
fault.  I  fear  me  my  friend  has  been  struck  with 
some  fearsome  sickness.  He  was  not  always 
thus.  You  may  go,  maid.  But  bring  not  the 
food — I  dare  not  wait.  Indeed,  I  was  not  over 
keen  to  eat.  A  slice  of  bread  from  your  hand 
before  I  get  me  in  the  saddle  is  all  I  crave." 

"That  shalt  thou  have,"  said  the  maid  with  re- 
turning spirit,  starting  for  the  kitchen  door,  "and 
a  bit  of  toasted  cheese  to  keep  it  company." 

176 


TO    CASTLE   YEWE 

"Upon  my  soul,  de  Claverlok,"  remonstrated 
Sir  Richard,  "your  temper  is  growing  to  be  some- 
thing unbearable.  'Twas  not  the  wench's  fault 
that  the  food  was  overturned.  You  backed  your 
great  body  square  against  the  platter,  leaving 
her  no  room  for  escape  on  either  side.  You've 
had  your  quarrel  with  our  host,  who  seems,  in 
sooth,  a  right  peaceable  and  merry  fellow;  you 
berated  the  groom,  and  glowered  upon  the 
kitchen-maid — with  whom  will  you  brawl  next, 
my  friend?" 

"Why,  with  you,  an  you  stay  not  here  to  eat 
and  drink,"  retorted  de  Claverlok. 

"Then  let  the  fun  begin,"  said  the  young 
knight,  starting  for  the  rear  door  that  gave  to 
the  court  and  stables.  "Not  another  moment  do 
I  tarry  here.  An  you  are  coming  with  me — 
come." 

De  Claverlok  could  do  nothing  but  follow,  the 
which  he  did  with  obvious  reluctance.  Once  out- 
side, they  ran  plump  into  the  inn-keeper,  who  was 
all  at  sea  whether  to  smile  and  pass  the  usual  joke, 
or  to  keep  his  eyes  fastened  discreetly  upon  his 
broad  expanse  of  doublet.  Sir  Richard,  however, 
allowed  him  no  choice  of  alternatives.  He 

177 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

stopped  him,  setting  his  hand  firmly  upon  the 
landlord's  round  shoulder. 

"When  my  friend  interrupted,"  said  the  young 
knight,  "you  were  about  to  tell  me  the  distance 
and  direction  of  Castle  Yewe — is  it  not  so?" 

MacWhuddy  cast  a  sheepish  look  in  the  direc- 
tion of  de  Claverlok,  who  was  scowling  fiercely 
and  shaking  his  fist  behind  Sir  Richard's  back. 

:  'Tis  in  some'at  of  that  way,"  he  replied, 
"ower  there,"  waving  his  trembling  hands  to  the 
eastward;  "some,  .  .  .  oh!  near — I  say  near, 
mind  thee,  worshipful  knight,  .  .  .  near 
twenty — thirty  leagues." 

According  to  that,  Sir  Richard  would  have 
been  required  to  travel  some  distance  out  upon 
the  open  sea. 

De  Claverlok  strode  toward  the  stable,  mutter- 
ing savage  oaths  against  the  stupidity  of  inn- 
keepers in  general,  and  poor  MacWhuddy  in  par- 
ticular. Meanwhile,  the  serving-maid,  bread  and 
cheese  in  hand,  was  beckoning  the  young  knight 
from  the  kitchen  window. 

"Here  is  thy  bit  food,  sir  knight,"  she  said,  as 
Sir  Richard  took  his  station  beneath  the  case- 
ment upon  which  she  was  leaning.  "Castle 

178 


TO    CASTLE   YEWE 

Yewe,"  she  added  in  a  whisper,  "doth  lie  straight 
along  this  road  in  the  way  thou  wert  traveling, 
and  not  above  six  leagues.  Turn  to  thy  right 
where  the  road  forks  in  front  of  the  inn.  Often, 
on  a  clear  day,  from  yonder  hill,  have  I  seen  its 
lofty  turrets.  Good  fortune  attend  thee,  sir  no- 
ble knight,"  she  concluded,  laying  her  hand, 
which  was  just  out  of  a  pan  of  flour,  upon  his 
shoulder,  "and  beware  of  the  brute  with  the  beard 
on  thy  way — he  means  harm  to  thee,  I  fear." 

When  Sir  Richard  came,  whistling  a  merry 
tune,  into  the  stable,  de  Claverlok  was  making  a 
great  show  of  rage,  cursing  and  boxing  the  poor 
stable-boy's  ears. 

"What  now,  my  friend?"  asked  the  young 
knight  as  he  went  on  past  the  struggling  pair  to- 
ward his  horse. 

"What  now,  .  .  .  eh?"  roared  de  Claver- 
lok; "why,  here  has  this  young  cub  gone  and  mis- 
laid your  saddle  girth !  A  murrain  upon  the  lout- 
ish tribe,  say  I !  and  you  in  a  sweat  to  be  off,  too. 
I'll " 

"Have  done  berating  the  boy,  de  Claverlok," 
said  Sir  Richard.  "Now  tell  me,  man,  what  have 
you  done  with  that  girth?  I  know  exactly  where 

179 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

lies  Castle  Yewe,  and  I  wish  to  ride  within  its 
sallyport  without  further  parley  or  delay.  What 
have  you  done  with  my  girth,  I  say?" 

"By  Saint  George,  Sir  Dick,  what  have  I  done 
with  your  saddle  girth,  .  .  .  eh?  'Tis  too 
much,  this,  I  tell  you.  Give  me  nothing  above  a 
padded  lance  and  a  sword  of  lath,  and  I'd  do 
battle  with  the  whole  of  you  together.  Here 
have  I  suffered  all  manner  of  insults  from  every 
blessed  soul  within  this  tavern — and  now  you,  Sir 
Dick,  must  say  to  me,  what  have  I  done  with  your 
girth,  .  .  .  eh!" 

"Mayhap,"  whined  the  stable-boy,  who  was 
squirming  to  get  loose  from  de  Claverlok's  grasp, 
"I  mislaid  me  it  in  yon  hay-cock." 

"Then  I'll  go  with  thee  to  help  find  it,"  de 
Claverlok  said,  wriggling  up  the  great  pile  of 
hay  behind  the  boy. 

While  they  were  both  down  on  their  hands  and 
knees  digging,  Sir  Richard  quickly  unbuckled 
the  grizzled  knight's  saddle  and  set  it  upon  the 
back  of  his  own  horse. 

"Have  you  found  it,  my  friend?"  he  called, 
when  he  had  made  de  Claverlok's  strap  secure. 

"Nay — not  yet.  Have  patience,  Sir  Dick," 
180 


TO    CASTLE   YEWE 

called  the  grizzled  knight  without  stopping  to 
look  behind  him. 

"Then,"  laughed  Sir  Richard  triumphantly, 
"being  in  sore  haste  to  get  away,  I've  e'en 
borrowed  thine.  Thou  canst  follow  later,  sir 
knight.  Adieu  to  you — adieu!" 

"Fie — Sir  Dick!"  shouted  de  Claverlok,  start- 
ing up  red- faced  and  sliding  down  the  steep  side 
of  the  hay;  "I  pray  you,  be  not  in  such  an  undue 
haste.  Wait !  You  are  leaving  with  the  mark  of 
a  powdered  hand  upon  your  shoulder-cape. 
Hold,  I  say!  Let  me  brush  it  from  you, 
boy!" 

The  young  knight  was  safe  upon  the  highway 
before  de  Claverlok  got  clear  of  the  hay. 

"An  I  have  the  mark  of  the  scullery-maid 
upon  my  shoulder,"  he  called  back,  "I  have  also 
the  knowledge  of  the  true  distance  of  Castle 
Yewe  beneath  my  bonnet.  Give  you  a  round 
good-day,  de  Claverlok,"  he  added,  laughing 
gaily,  and  with  that  pelted  off  down  the  road  at 
top  speed. 

He  had  a  fine  view  of  the  Stag  and  Hounds 
from  the  crest  of  the  next  hill,  and  saw  his  com- 
panion swing  into  his  saddle  and  follow  after  him 

181 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

at  a  great  pace,  with  the  lost  girth  strapped  se- 
curely about  his  horse's  belly.  The  race  was  now 
on  in  grim  earnest,  and  the  young  knight  was  re- 
solved, at  any  hazard,  to  hold  fast  to  the  advan- 
tage he  had  gained. 

The  breadth  of  the  hill  intervening,  he  lost 
sight  of  de  Claverlok  for  a  little  space.  But  he 
had  another  view  of  him  when  his  pursuer  rode 
over  its  summit.  The  grizzled  knight  was  shout- 
ing a  string  of  words  that,  because  of  the  roar- 
ing of  the  wind  in  his  ears  and  the  pounding  of 
his  horse's  hoofs,  he  could  not  at  all  make  out, 
and  waving  his  long  arms  about  in  the  most  fran- 
tic manner.  The  young  knight  was  enjoying  the 
situation  to  the  marrow.  It  was  worth  every- 
thing to  him  merely  to  have  outwitted  the  crafty 
veteran. 

Sir  Richard  calculated  that  he  was  laying  the 
road  behind  him  at  the  rate  of  five  leagues  an 
hour.  He  was  relieved  and  happy  to  know  that  of 
a  certainty  he  would  soon  arrive  at  his  journey's 
end,  and  that,  too,  in  despite  of  the  many  obsta- 
cles that  had  been  so  stubbornly  thrust  in  his  way. 
"Then,"  thought  he,  with  a  thrill  of  pleasure, 
"upon  fulfilling  my  King's  behest  I  shall  be  free 

182 


TO    CASTLE   YEWE 

to  retrace  my  way  to  the  Red  Tavern  to  deliver 
the  fair  maiden  from  her  imprisonment." 

Thus  much,  at  least,  he  meant  surely  to  do. 
After  that  was  accomplished,  he  felt  constrained 
to  relinquish  the  marking  of  the  sequel  into  the 
hands  of  the  kind — or  unkind — Fates. 

Meanwhile  the  race  was  going  steadily  and 
swiftly  forward.  Though  exacting  the  utmost 
of  speed  from  his  horse,  Sir  Richard  was  unable 
appreciably  to  change  their  positions.  With  a 
dogged  persistence  de  Claverlok  contrived  to 
maintain  the  rapid  pace  and  relative  distance, 
which,  when  galloping  over  the  level,  was  well 
within  sight  of  the  pursued. 

At  length,  through  a  narrow  cleft  between  the 
hills,  Sir  Richard  caught  a  welcome  glimpse  of 
high,  square-built  and  crenelated  towers.  It  was 
the  goal  for  which  he  was  so  mightily  striving. 

He  had  passed  through  the  cleft  and  was  well 
up  the  slope  leading  to  the  portcullis  when  of  a 
sudden  he  felt  the  saddle  girth  giving  way  be- 
neath him.  Appreciating  that  it  would  be  sheer 
madness  to  risk  a  fall  and  certain  defeat  of  his 
purpose  of  delivering  the  warrant,  with  victory 

so  near,  he  instantly  drew  rein,  flung  himself 

183 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

from  off  the  back  of  his  panting  stallion  and  be- 
gan the  work  of  securing  the  ill  adjusted  strap. 

While  thus  feverishly  engaged  he  shouted  at 
the  top  of  his  voice  for  the  guard  upon  the  tower 
to  lower  the  drawbridge  across  the  wide  moat. 
Covered  with  scarlet-flecked  foam,  de  Claverlok's 
horse  came  thundering  upon  him  up  the  hill. 

With  the  grizzled  knight  scarce  above  two 
lance-haft's  lengths  behind  him,  and  wildly  call- 
ing upon  him  to  wait,  that  death  lay  in  the  King's 
warrant,  Sir  Richard  vaulted  into  his  saddle  and 
made  for  the  castle  gate. 

When  he  had  laid  something  near  half  of  the 
remaining  distance  behind  him  he  heard  the  clear 
blast  of  a  bugle  go  singing  across  the  down. 
Without  in  the  least  diminishing  his  speed,  he 
turned  in  time  to  see  a  band  of  armored  horse- 
men flashing  out  of  the  pine  forest  to  the  east- 
ward. Riding  in  the  van  he  was  certain  that  he 
recognized  the  livid-scarred  face  of  the  traveler 
in  the  monk's  robe. 

If  the  bridge  were  now  but  lowered  it  would 
be  impossible  for  them  to  cut  Sir  Richard  off. 
Would  it  fall  for  him?  Now  he  had  reached  to 
within  easy  flight  of  an  arrow  from  the  massively 

184 


TO    CASTLE   YEWE 

buttressed  gray  walls ;  and  as  yet  he  could  discern 
no  sign  of  movement  among  the  thick  ropes, 
wheels,  and  pulleys  sustaining  it.  There  ap- 
peared no  hint  of  life  along  the  face  of  the  great 
pile.  At  the  very  moment  when  he  was  about  to 
wheel  to  the  westward,  in  the  faint  hope  of  elud- 
ing his  pursuers  through  a  continued  flight,  there 
sounded  a  creaking  of  wheels,  and  the  heavy 
structure  began  slowly  to  move  earthward. 

De  Claverlok's  lance,  hilt-foremost,  went  hurt- 
ling past  the  young  knight's  shoulder.  Distinct- 
ly he  heard  the  dull  splash  of  it  as  it  struck  the 
black  waters  of  the  moat,  far  below. 

At  every  stride  the  slope  was  growing  steeper, 
and  it  seemed  to  Sir  Richard's  straining  eyes 
that  the  bridge,  with  its  underwork  of  mossy 
beams  and  rusted  iron  trusses,  was  hanging  in 
mid  air  directly  above  his  head. 

So  closely  had  its  fall  been  timed,  however, 
that  there  was  no  margin  left  to  the  young 
knight  upon  the  side  of  safety.  He  was 
forced  to  put  his  mount  to  the  leap  to  gain  the 
top  of  it. 

"God  wot  there  be  death  here  for  the  twain 
of  us!"  Sir  Richard  heard  de  Claverlok  shout  as 

185 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

he,  too,  took  the  perilous  leap  but  an  instant  be- 
hind him. 

Through  the  yawning  maw  of  the  arched  sally- 
port they  shot  together,  and  the  heavy  portcullis, 
like  iron  teeth  snapping  down  after  gulping  their 
prey,  crashed  upon  the  flagging  at  their  backs. 


CHAPTER   XII 

OF  THE  DELIVERY  OF  THE  KING'S  WARRANT 

THE  main  gateway  that  gave  entrance  to 
the  outer  bailey  was  impressively  wide 
and  lofty.  Once  inside,  postern  gates 
opening  upon  either  hand  admitted  into  the  great 
halls,  rooms  of  state,  and  the  donjon-keep.  Be- 
sides these,  and  at  regular  intervals  along  the 
vaulted,  winding  passageway,  the  walls  were 
pierced  by  iron-clad  doors  giving  upon  the  same 
premises.  When  the  opening  of  this  main  artery 
had  been  sealed  by  the  drawbridge,  which  fitted 
tight  against  it,  nothing  of  daylight  filtered  in, 
and  it  received  its  only  illumination  from  a  num- 
ber of  huge  cressets,  two  of  which  were  set  high 
overhead  at  every  turning,  and  kept  constantly 
filled  with  glowing  coals  by  the  castle  attendants. 
Before  each  of  the  nail-studded  doors  stood 
two  guards  armed  at  point,  their  halberds  planted 
firm  before  them,  grim  and  motionless.  In  the 

187 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

dim  radiation  from  the  iron  baskets  they  assumed 
the  appearance  of  a  rank  of  immovable  and  awe- 
some statues  that  might  well  have  been  hewn  out 
of  the  smoke-distained  walls  before  which  they 
were  stationed. 

When  Sir  Richard  and  de  Claverlok  had  rid- 
den past  the  second  turning1  they  were  confronted 
by  a  solid  line  of  them,  stretching  from  wall  to 
wall  across  the  flagged  floor  directly  in  their  path. 
To  the  right,  one  of  the  doors  stood  wide  ajar; 
a  bevy  of  men  and  women,  sumptuously  garbed, 
appeared  within  the  bright  rectangle.  A  fool  in 
motley  was  posing  against  the  pillared  casement. 
It  was  like  a  painted  picture,  vivid,  touched  with 
brilliant  colors,  set  within  an  enormous,  dark,  and 
gloomy  frame. 

A  train  of  pages,  dressed  in  liveries  of  slashed 
silk  and  velvet,  stood  ready  to  conduct  the  two 
travelers  before  the  lord  of  the  castle.  At  a  sign 
from  one,  who,  because  of  his  distinctive  uniform, 
one  would  have  taken  to  be  the  major  domo,  they 
dismounted  and  relinquished  their  horses  into  the 
care  of  equerries;  then,  bringing  up  in  the  rear 
of  the  train  of  pages,  they  made  their  way  up  the 
steps  and  through  the  thronged  doorway. 

188 


THE    KING'S   WARRANT 

"God's  sake!  Sir  Dick,"  exclaimed  de  Claver- 
lok  in  an  agitated  whisper  as  they  were  travers- 
ing the  length  of  the  vast  hall  into  which  they 
were  come,  "Give  not  that  paper  to  Douglas. 
Let  me  have  but  a  word  with  you  in  private  be- 
fore adventuring  an  act  so  deadly  dangerous  to 
your  person,  .  .  .  eh?"  In  the  extremity  of 
his  eagerness  to  gain  his  young  friend's  consent 
he  caught  his  arm  in  a  viselike  grip,  as  though 
meaning  forcibly  to  detain  him. 

"Take  your  hand  from  off  my  arm,"  warned 
Sir  Richard  sullenly.  'T would  be  most  un- 
seemly to  have  out  our  quarrel  here,  de  Claver- 
lok." 

"Quarrels?  What  quarrel,  .  .  .  eh?" 
There's  no  quarrel  between  us,  my  boy." 

"Aye — but  I  tell  thee  there  is,"  maintained  Sir 
Richard.  "Much  hath  thy  treachery  grieved  and 
amazed  me,  worthy  knight,  whom  I  had  come  to 
consider  my  stanch  friend." 

"Treachery,  .  .  .  eh?  What  the  devil! 
God  wot,  my  son,"  de  Claverlok  hurriedly  pur- 
sued, "I  am  not  traitor — listen " 

"Have  a  care,  de  Claverlok,  the  guards  are 
looking,"  whispered  the  young  knight  warningly. 

189 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

"And  not  a  word  with  you,  I  say,  till  I've  deliv- 
ered the  King's  paper.  Think  you  I  have 
foughten  my  way  here  for  naught?  No  inkling 
have  I  of  the  purpose  of  your  company  in  steal- 
ing the  parchment  and  in  their  attempt  to  hinder 
me  from  reaching  here.  But  the  copy  goes  to 
Lord  Douglas  as  fast  as— 

"Cannot  you  but  wait  an  hour,  .  .  .  eh? 
Hell  and  furies!  Never  can  I  forgive  me  my 
stupidity  in  allowing  you  to  come  within  this 
house  of  death,"  interrupted  de  Claverlok. 
"There's  death  in  that  paper,  I  say — death!" 

"Death;  what  mean  you?" 

"Aye,  death!  Death  to  thyself,  an  thou  must 
hear  the  truth.  'Tis  a  warrant  for  your  own  exe- 
cution, Sir  Dick." 

"De  Claverlok,  you  lie  in  your  bewhiskered 
throat,"  returned  Sir  Richard  in  a  menacing  un- 
dertone. 

"Never  before  hath  man  said  that  word  to  me 
and  lived,"  declared  the  grizzled  warrior 
gloomily.  "But  I  forgive  you,  Sir  Dick.  Aye, 
I  forgive  you.  An  you'll  but  consent  to  wait  an 
hour,  I'll  hear  you  asking  my  forgiveness.  You 
can  do  it,  my  boy, — you  can  wait.  Say  to  Doug- 

190 


THE   KING'S   WARRANT 

las  that  thou  art  an  emissary  of  Henry,  who  hath 
but  journeyed  here  to  yield  to  him  thy  sover- 
eign's good  wishes.  Tell  him  that  I  am  your 
companion  and  squire.  Mayhap  'twill  answer  for 
my  present  safety." 

"First  dive  within  the  moat  and  fetch  me  your 
dripping  lance.  'T would  be  a  most  befitting 
badge  of  your  loyalty  to  me  to  lay  before  him, 
de  Claverlok." 

"You  would  be  at  this  moment  in  a  far  better 
case,"  observed  the  grizzled  warrior  bitterly,  "an 
it  had  taken  you  in  the  small  of  the  back,  where 
I  intended  it  should  land.  You  know  damned 
well 'twas  hurled  butt  foremost,  .  .  .  eh?  By 
the  Rood,  boy,  answer  me." 

Sir  Richard  hesitated ;  then,  measuring  his  com- 
panion's earnest  look,  nodded  in  the  affirmative. 

"I'll  do  it,"  said  he,  "though  a  plague  take  me, 
an  I  think  you  deserve  it.  But  whereof  be  the 
good,  an  your  act  were  seen  from  barbacan  or 
shot-hole?" 

"I'll  take  my  solemn  oath  'twas  driven  at  the 
door,"  observed  de  Claverlok,  smiling  in  open 
gratification  at  having  achieved  his  point. 
"You'll  delay  the  blessed  paper,  too,  .  .  .  eh?" 

191 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

"Nay — that  I  dare  not  do,"  whispered  Sir 
Richard  decisively.  "Even  now  unmeasured 
harm  may  have  resulted  from  my  egregious 
blunder  in  permitting  the  original  to  be  stolen. 
An  ill  messenger  have  I  been,  de  Claverlok — an 
ill  messenger." 

"You'll  persist  in  delivering  the  paper,  .  .  . 
eh?" 

"Upon  my  soul.    Yea." 

By  now  they  had  reached  to  the  foot  of  a  broad 
flight  of  steps  leading  to  a  gallery  that  complete- 
ly girdled  the  hall.  Already  the  pages  were 
strung  halfway  up  the  stairway,  awaiting  for 
the  two  men  to  follow. 

"Await  me  here,  de  Claverlok,"  added  Sir 
Richard  in  a  tone  indicating  his  determination 
to  finish  his  errand  as  he  started  up  the  stairs. 

"By  the  gods,  you'll  not  go !"  roared  the  griz- 
zled knight  in  a  transport  of  infuriated  rage, 
whereupon  he  made  a  sudden  leap  at  Sir  Rich- 
ard, catching  him  with  a  bearlike  hug  around  the 
middle  and  dragging  him  to  the  floor  of  the  hall. 
"Give  me  that  paper,"  he  whispered  in  the  young 
knight's  ear.  "Give  it  to  me,  Sir  Dick!" 

"What  meaneth  this?"  shouted  a  stern  voice 
192 


THE    KING'S   WARRANT 

from  above  that  rang  to  the  vaulted  dome  of  the 
chamber.  "Separate  me  those  brawlers,  guards!" 

In  the  wink  of  an  eye  a  cloud  of  the  Douglas 
retainers  had  swooped  down  and  torn  the  fiercely 
struggling  men  apart.  There  followed  a  mo- 
mentary lull  during  which  the  two  stood  glaring 
into  each  other's  eyes. 

"Which  of  thee  hath  an  errand  with  Douglas, 
and  what,  pray,  may  it  be?"  resumed  the  voice 
from  the  gallery. 

Ranging  along  the  balcony  behind  him,  Sir 
Richard's  eyes  fell  upon  a  burly,  broad-shoul- 
dered man  standing  with  arms  folded  on  the 
threshold  of  an  open  door. 

"I  am  bearer  of  a  message  from  King  Henry, 
my  lord,"  answered  Sir  Richard. 

"And  who  is  thy  combative  friend?"  queried 
Douglas.  "Why  this  row  within  my  very  hall, 
sir  knight?" 

"  'Twas  but  a  slight  misunderstanding,  my 
lord,"  Sir  Richard  instantly  replied.  "May  I 
now  bring  to  thee  the  paper?" 

"Aye,  that  may  you.  But  who  is  thy  friend? 
Thou  hast  not  answered  me." 

"My  companion  and  squire,  Lord  Douglas.  I 
193 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

bespeak  for  him  thy  pardon.  Though  he  meaneth 
right  well,  he  is  ever  thoughtless  and  rude." 

"So  it  would  seem.  Bring  me  King  Henry's 
message.  Keep  me  yonder  belligerent  in  leash, 
my  men,"  Douglas  added,  pointing  toward  de 
Claverlok,  who  was  still  tossing  the  guards  about 
in  a  vain  endeavor  to  free  himself  from  their 
smothering  grasp. 

Sir  Richard  strode  past  the  struggling,  heav- 
ing mass  of  humanity,  and  then,  on  up  the  stair- 
way. Upon  reaching  the  landing  he  turned  to 
his  right  to  where  Lord  Douglas  stood  within 
the  door  leading  off  the  jutting  balcony.  The 
young  knight  paused  for  a  moment  to  glance 
downward  above  the  railing  toward  de  Claverlok. 
The  grizzled  warrior  had  evidently  signified  his 
intention  of  remaining  quiescent,  for  the  guards 
had  loosened  their  hold  of  him  and  he  was  stand- 
ing mutely  against  one  of  the  columns  that  shot 
from  floor  to  ceiling  at  regular  intervals  around 
the  entire  length  and  breadth  of  the  hall.  His 
arms  were  folded,  and  he  was  gazing  straight  up 
into  the  face  of  his  young  friend.  The  berib- 
boned  courtiers  and  brightly  dressed  women  were 
standing  at  a  discreet  distance,  gaping  at  him. 

194 


THE    KING'S   WARRANT 

It  reminded  Sir  Richard  of  an  eagle  that  had 
dropped  its  pinions  in  the  midst  of  a  swarm  of 
brilliant-winged,  fluttering  moths.  He  noted  as 
well  the  expression  of  sad  reproach  with  which 
the  veteran  was  regarding  him.  If  ever  sincerity 
was  stamped  in  the  features  of  man  it  was  surely 
displayed  in  the  rugged  countenance  of  de  Clav- 
erlok,  and  from  that  instant  the  young  knight 
divined  his  erstwhile  companion  to  be  as  stanch 
and  true  as  the  steel  of  the  Damascus  blade  at  his 
side. 

"Thou'lt  find  me  here,  Sir  Richard,"  de  Claver- 
lok  called  up  as  the  young  knight  turned  to  enter 
the  door  through  which  Lord  Douglas  had  but 
just  preceded  him.  When  he  came  into  his  cab- 
inet, after  traversing  a  number  of  curtained 
passageways,  Sir  Richard  found  the  bluff  Scots- 
man pacing  impatiently  back  and  forth  across  the 
floor.  He  paused  when  the  young  knight  en- 
tered, greeting  him  formally  from  his  station  in 
the  center  of  the  room. 

"From  King  Henry,"  said  he,  when  the  docu- 
ment, fresh  from  its  hiding  place,  had  been  sur- 
rendered into  his  hands. 

Signing  Sir  Richard  to  be  seated  near  a  mas- 
195 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

sive,  carved  oak  desk,  Douglas  dropped  into  a 
high-backed  chair  before  it,  broke  the  great  red 
seal  and  addressed  himself  to  the  business  of  read- 
ing. When  he  had  finished  perusing  the  docu- 
ment he  laid  it  face  downward  upon  the  desk  and 
leaned  back  in  his  chair,  tugging  at  his  wiry, 
black  beard,  and  knitting  his  fierce  brows  deeply. 
During  an  interval  of  several  minutes  he  re- 
mained in  this  attitude,  stealing  occasional  glances 
of  searching  inquiry  in  Sir  Richard's  direction 
and  muttering  inaudible  sentences  to  himself. 

"That  this  paper  hath  reached  within  the  walls 
of  Castle  Yewe,  sir  knight,"  he  at  length  said, 
speaking  with  a  cold  deliberation,  as  though  care- 
fully weighing  each  word,  "is  certes  an  indis- 
putable proof  of  thy  absolute  integrity  as  a  mes- 
senger." 


"Tut,  tut  !  Say  not  a  word  till  I  have  digested 
this  matter  within  my  mind,"  interrupted  Doug- 
las. Whereupon  he  took  up  the  parchment  and 
read  it  through  carefully  a  second  time.  Then, 
getting  up  from  his  seat,  he  resumed  his  impa- 
tient march  across  the  floor.  As  Sir  Richard  sat 
studying  the  Scotsman's  movements,  he  fancied 

196 


THE    KING'S   WARRANT 

that  he  had  never  seen  a  combination  of  features 
more  suggestive  of  unfaltering  determination 
and  grim  pugnacity.  Douglas's  head  was  not 
over  large;  and  his  cheek,  chin,  and  crown  were 
covered  with  a  thick  mop  of  jet  black  beard  and 
hair.  He  moved  his  burly  figure  awkwardly,  like 
one  who  was  more  accustomed  to  riding  than 
walking. 

"By  the  mass !"  he  suddenly  ejaculated.  'Tis, 
in  truth,  a  riddle  far  too  deep  for  me  to  unravel. 
Why  hast  thou  delivered  me  this  message,  sir 
knight?"  he  queried  sharply,  halting  before  the 
bench  whereupon  Sir  Richard  was  sitting. 

"Why?"  returned  the  surprised  young  knight. 
"Does  it  not  speak  for  itself,  my  lord?  At  the 
behest  of  my  sovereign  liege  have  I  brought  it 
here ;  and  much  doth  it  shame  me  to  confess  that 
ill  have  I  requited  my  beloved  and  noble  master's 
trust " 

"111  requited?  What's  this  the  young  knight's 
saying?"  Douglas  burst  forth.  "Beshrew  me, 
young  sir,  an  I  wot  howl" 

"Well — 'tis  but  the  duplicate  I  have  rendered 
unto  thee,  Lord  Douglas.  The  original  I  care- 
lessly allowed  to  be  stolen  by  a  band  of  free- 

197 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

lances  from  whom  I  did  escape  but  yester  eve. 
Tell  me,"  he  added  anxiously,  "will  harm  result 
because  of  my  unpardonable  lack  of  caution?" 

Douglas,  with  arms  akimbo,  was  standing  di- 
rectly in  front  of  Sir  Richard  and  looking 
straight  down  into  his  eyes. 

"Save  to  thyself,"  he  replied  slowly,  apparently 
having  satisfied  himself  as  to  the  truth  of  the 
young  knight's  statement,  "no  harm  can  possibly 
befall.  Mayhap,  an  thou  hadst  not  lost  the  origi- 
nal, I  should  have  adopted  another  course  than 
the  one  now  forced  upon  me.  But — wherefore, 
Sir  Richard,  didst  thou  not  join  issues  with  Tyr- 
rell withal?" 

"Tyrrell?"  the  young  knight  replied  in  a  thor- 
oughly puzzled  way;  "i'  faith,  my  lord,  I  know 
not  the  man — though  I  did  hear  that  name  called 
by  the  outlaw  band  by  which  I  was  held  captive." 

"Well,  well — so  thou  knowest  not  Tyrrell?" 
ejaculated  Lord  Douglas.  "Yet  certes,  man,  you 
tarried  a  night  under  the  roof  of  the  Red  Tavern, 
and  rode  for  a  day  in  his  company  of  conspira- 
tors? Either  you  are  the  cleverest  of  dissem- 
blers, sir  knight,  or  else,  forsooth,  the  embodi- 
ment of  sluggishness !  Nay — regard  me  not  thus 

198 


THE    KING'S   WARRANT 

in  anger — I  accept  every  word  of  your  astonish- 
ing denial  as  God's  truth — every  word.  Have  I 
not  before  stated  that  this  document  here  proves 
your  steadfast  honesty?  Have  you  never  heard 
of  Tyrrell,  hireling  of  Crookback  Richard — 
strangler  of  two  drooling  boys  in  the  tower?  By 
my  soul,  man,  where  have  you  been  reared?" 

"In  Brittany,  my  lord,"  Sir  Richard  returned, 
his  face  aflame  with  honest  resentment.  "There, 
in  Duke  Francis's  court  I  learned  my  lessons  with 
the  Earl  of  Richmond,  now  my  beloved  King. 
I  do  recall  that  once,  on  London  Bridge,  I  saw 
the  head  of  one,  Dighton,  slewing  on  a  pole. 
'Twas  he,  methought,  who  did  the  tower  mur- 
ders." 

"Tut,  tut!  What  ignorance!  Somewhat  of 
history,  Sir  Richard,  you  have  yet  to  learn.  That 
fellow  was  but  Tyrrell's  tool  and  groom  whom 
Tyrrell  himself  murdered  for  playing  him  false. 
Lady  Douglas  shall  take  you  in  hand  and  teach 
you  a  thing  or  two  of  past  events.  I  would  hear 
now,"  he  added,  seating  himself  beside  Sir  Rich- 
ard, "your  account  of  your  journey  from  Kenil- 
worth.  I  beg  of  you,  omit  no  incident  that  may 
seem  to  you  trifling,  as  you  love  your  King.  It 

199 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

is  a  most  important  and  grave  matter,  this,  Sir 
Richard." 

"I'll  do  it  willingly,  my  lord,"  the  young 
knight  acquiesced,  and  thereupon  began  narrat- 
ing his  adventures.  It  took  him  an  hour  or  more 
to  finish,  during  all  of  which  time  Lord  Douglas 
sat  quietly  beside  him,  with  his  elbows  planted 
firmly  upon  his  knees  and  his  face  pressed  against 
the  palms  of  his  hands.  At  times  he  would  run 
his  fingers  through  his  hair,  or  tap  with  the  heel 
of  his  boot  upon  the  floor.  Sir  Richard's  tale  ran 
smoothly  enough  till  it  came  to  the  point  of  ac- 
counting for  de  Claverlok's  companionship. 
Here  he  stumbled  slightly,  being  obliged  to  draw 
largely  upon  his  imagination.  He  accomplished 
it  in  a  fairly  acceptable  manner,  however,  and  in 
a  way  that  he  hoped  would  seem  natural. 
Though  he  was  unable  to  see  how  harm  could  be- 
fall either  the  grizzled  knight  or  himself  in  the 
event  of  the  truth  being  told.  Not  for  a  mo- 
ment had  he  credited  his  companion's  statement 
in  respect  of  Henry's  message  containing  matter 
inimical  to  its  bearer.  But  he  paid  the  veteran 
the  tribute  of  believing  him  to  be  absolutely  sin- 
cere, and  forgave  him  accordingly,  absolving 

200 


THE    KING'S   WARRANT 

him  from  any  blame  because  of  that  which  Sir 
Richard  supposed  to  be  his  misjudged  zeal  in  at- 
tempting to  withhold  the  delivery  of  the  parch- 
ment. 

When  the  young  knight  had  finished  his  story, 
Douglas  arose  and  took  a  few  turns  across  the 
room. 

"Extraordinary,"  he  kept  repeating  half  to 
himself;  "most  extraordinary!" 

Presently  he  resumed  his  seat  before  the  desk, 
remaining  silent  there  for  awhile,  and  tapping 
with  his  fingers  upon  its  polished  top. 

"Thou  canst  not  appreciate,  I  know,"  he  said 
at  length,  "how  completely  thy  story  hath  ab- 
sorbed my  interest.  I  would  that  I  could  delve 
beneath  the  surface  and  unearth  some  of  its  mys- 
teries. Tut,  tut!  What  am  I  saying?  Let  them 
take  care  of  themselves.  Full  often  have  I 
found,  Sir  Richard,  that  the  deepest  mysteries  of 
to-day  become  the  most  loudly  heralded  sensa- 
tions of  to-morrow.  Now,  an  thou'lt  but  sign 
thy  name  across  the  back  of  this  parchment,  I'll 
take  thee  into  the  presence  of  the  lady  of  the 
castle.  But — hold!  I'll  have  witnesses." 

Then — "MacGregor,"  he  called  aloud,  and  in 
201 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

reply  to  his  summons  a  lank  individual  arose 
above  a  tall  desk  standing  in  a  corner  of  the  cab- 
inet quite  as  though  he  had  been  materialized  out 
of  a  world  of  spirits.  Douglas  whispered  his  in- 
structions in  the  scrivener's  ear,  and  he  hurried 
away,  presumably  to  gather  them  in. 

They  entered  presently — ten  of  them  there 
were — mumbling,  whispering,  shaking  their  pow- 
dered heads  in  a  kind  of  unison,  till  the  white  dust 
sifted  upon  the  floor  like  particles  of  glittering 
snow.  Standing  somberly  in  line  behind  a  long 
table,  awaiting  turns  to  set  their  names  beneath 
Sir  Richard's,  they  reminded  him  of  a  row  of 
solemn,  nodding  jackdaws.  Not  being  in  a  po- 
sition to  appreciate  its  gravity,  the  scene  amused 
rather  than  awed  the  young  knight.  Not  in  the 
remotest  degree  did  he  surmise  that  he  was  hence- 
forth to  be  but  a  wooden  image — a  carved  knight, 
if  we  may  be  allowed  the  simile — progressing 
obediently  from  square  to  square  over  the  check- 
ered board  of  a  complex  conspiracy  whenever 
they  extended  their  lean  fingers  to  make  the 
move. 

"Remain,"  Lord  Douglas  said,  when  the  last 

of  them  had  written  his  name  beneath  the  young 

202 


THE    KING'S   WARRANT 

knight's.  "Await  my  return  and  we'll  hold  fur- 
ther council  here,"  whereupon  he  took  Sir  Rich- 
ard's arm,  expressing  his  intention  of  presenting 
him  to  the  lady  of  the  castle. 

"Now  that  I  have  delivered  the  King's  mes- 
sage, my  lord,"  said  the  young  knight  as  they 
were  passing  along  the  gallery  and  down  the 
stairs,  "it  is  my  desire  to  be  soon  upon  my  way. 
On  the  morrow,  an  there  be  nothing  further  here 
for  me  to  do,  I  shall  fare  southward  toward 
Kenilworth." 

"Tut,  tut!  Sir  Richard.  Be  not  in  such  haste 
to  bid  us  adieux.  We  are  a  right  merry  throng 
here  in  Castle  Yewe,  and  thou  canst  pass  thy 
hours  with  us  full  pleasantly.  Thy  errand,  be- 
sides, is  not  yet  done.  'Tis  thy  sovereign's  wish 
that  thou  shalt  bide  in  Scotland  yet  awhile  as  my 
guest.  But  yonder  is  Lady  Douglas,  to  whom  I 
shall  surrender  thee  for  the  present." 

After  introducing  the  young  knight,  Douglas 
begged  the  privilege  of  talking  a  moment  with 
his  wife  in  private.  A  page  led  Sir  Richard  to 
a  seat  within  an  alcove  of  the  hall,  where  he  re- 
mained, looking  out  of  a  window  at  a  company 
of  infantry  drilling  in  the  castle  yard  till  Lord 

203 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

and   Lady  Douglas  had   finished   their   rather 
lengthy  discourse. 

"I'll  see  thee  at  the  wassail  board  this  even- 
ing, Sir  Richard,"  said  Douglas,  who  had  ac- 
companied his  wife  as  far  as  the  curtained  en- 
trance to  the  alcove.  "Thou  art  indeed  happily 
come.  To-day  is  the  twenty-fifth  of  the  month— 
the  feast  of  Crispian  will  be  spread  in  the  state 
hall.  I  have  made  thy  squire  comfortable  in  my 
retainer's  quarters,"  he  added,  and  then  retired 
to  his  room  above  where  the  jackdaws  were 
awaiting  to  hold  their  council. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

OF  THE  INCIDENT  OF  THE  COBBLER'S  FEAST 

NOBLE  gentlemen,"  said  Douglas  when 
he  had  returned  into  his  room,  "I  am 
here  confronted  by  a  problem  that  I 
would  fain  crave  thy  learned  assistance  in  solv- 
ing.   MacGregor,"  he  added,  handing  Henry's 
warrant  to  the  lean  scrivener,  "recite  to  us  the 
contents  of  this  parchment." 

MacGregor  at  once  proceeded  to  read  the 
document,  which  abounded  in  pompous  tautology 
and  redundant  sentences.  When  he  had  finished 
with  the  preamble  he  came  to  the  meat  of  the  war- 
rant, which  ran:  "Lord  Douglas,  friend  and 
ally,  we  beg  of  thee  the  favor  that  this  young 
knight,  Sir  Richard  Rohan,  Kt.,  bearer  of  this 
paper,  shall  be  engaged  in  fair  and  honorable  con- 
flict by  men  of  thine  own  choice  to  the  end  that 
he  return  not  again  into  England.  We  pray  thee 
further  to  keep  from  Sir  Richard  Rohan,  Kt., 

205 


THE   RED   TAVERN 

all  knowledge  of  the  purport  of  this  warrant 
upon  thee,  Lord  Douglas.  And  as  thou  shalt 
bear  out  its  intent,  so  shalt  thy  divers  affairs 
prosper  before  our  court.  Signed,  Henry  VII." 

"Well,  what  think  you  of  it,  gentlemen?"  in- 
quired Douglas  when  MacGregor  had  finished  his 
sing-song  droning  of  the  sentences. 

"By  thy  leave,  my  lord,"  said  the  venerable 
spokesman  of  the  conclave,  a  very  aged  man,  ac- 
cording to  all  appearances,  whose  snowy  beard 
swept  to  the  cord  knotted  about  his  waist,  "by 
thy  leave  and  that  of  my  compeers,  I  would  say 
that  it  might  be  wise  to  fulfill  King  Henry's 
wishes  in  so  small  a  matter.  This  Perkin  War- 
beck,  to  whom  Lady  Anna  is  teaching  the  man- 
ners of  a  noble,  is  not  yet  prepared  to  assume  suc- 
cessfully the  part  of  the  dead  prince.  Not  until 
the  youth's  schooling  is  complete  shalt  thou,  my 
lord,  be  justified  in  setting  thy  brave  men  at  his 
back  and  speeding  them  across  the  borders  of 
England.  And  even  then  it  is  not  thy  wish,  as 
we  understand  it,  to  be  recognized  as  the  insti- 
gator of  this  movement.  To  that  end  it  would  be 
prudent,  it  beseemeth  me,  to  set  the  burden  of 
obligation  upon  Henry  by  carrying  out  his 

206 


THE    COBBLER'S   FEAST 

wishes  with  respect  of  this  Sir  Richard  Rohan." 
"Well  and  ably  said,"  commented  Lord  Doug- 
las. "But  what  cause,  think  you,  had  Henry  for 
dispatching  the  youth  from  Kenilworth  to  Yewe 
to  accomplish  a  thing  that  could  as  well  and 
more  surely  have  been  done  upon  the  tower 
block?" 

"Marry,  my  lord,  an  it  be  not  a  senseless  wine- 
wager  begot  at  cock-crow  after  a  night  of  wild 
feasting,  I  am  much  mistaken  withal,"  observed 
another  member  of  the  council. 

"Belike  it  is,"  Douglas  agreed.  "Belike  it  is. 
But  'tis  sinful,  I  take  it,  thus  to  waste  an  honest 
body.  I  like  me  the  young  knight's  looks 
mightily,  gentlemen,  and  I  say  to  thee  now,  an 
he  vanquish  in  single  combat  those  whom  thou 
shalt  choose  to  be  his  adversaries,  I'll  appoint  him 
chief  of  horse  when  the  time  grows  ripe  to  send 
our  expedition  against  the  usurper  and  tyrant, 
Henry.  This  is  Lady  Anna's  suggestion,  and  in 
her  judgment  of  character  I  repose  the  utmost 
of  confidence.  Now,  noble  gentles,  lay  me  thy 
heads  together  and  appoint  me  a  list  of  fighting 
men,  each  of  whom  shall,  according  as  thou  mayst 
order,  insult  and  duel  with  the  young  knight. 

207 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

Let  Henry  be  apprised  of  our  intention  to  com- 
ply with  his  behest.  Counselors,  that  is  all." 

The  members  of  the  council  thereupon  bowed 
gravely  and  withdrew  to  their  own  room  for  the 
purpose  of  making  out  the  list  in  compliance  with 
Lord  Douglas's  request. 

During  the  whole  of  this  time,  in  the  curtained 
alcove  below,  Lady  Anna  had  been  conversing 
with  Sir  Richard.  From  the  inception  of  their 
acquaintance,  the  young  knight  had  accorded  to 
her  a  sincere  admiration,  and  in  a  very  short  space 
she  had  won  his  confidence  to  the  extent  that  he 
was  now  narrating  to  her  the  experiences  of  his 
journey.  When  he  came  to  the  incident  of  the 
cutting  of  saffron  velvet,  which  he  had  withheld 
when  telling  his  story  to  Lord  Douglas,  Lady 
Anna  displayed  a  more  than  passive  interest,  ex- 
pressing an  earnest  wish  to  see  and  examine  the 
bit  of  cloth.  When  he  obediently  gave  it  to  her, 
she  took  it  within  her  shapely  ringers,  crumpling 
it  into  many  wrinkles,  arching  her  fine  brows, 
and  making  a  pretense  of  feeling  jealousy.  In 
fact,  whenever  opportunity  offered,  she  set  his 
cup  to  brimming  with  sweetest  flattery.  Like  all 
men  of  whom  she  chose  to  make  instruments  in 

208 


THE    COBBLER'S   FEAST 

the  furthering  of  her  husband's  schemes,  Sir 
Richard  became  a  mere  creature  of  clay  in  her 
deft  hands. 

"Lord  Douglas  told  you,  Richard,"  said  she, 
when  they  were  done  discussing  the  subject  of  his 
adventures,  "that  to-day  is  the  day  of  the  Cob- 
bler's Feast.  But  he  was  remiss  in  not  adding 
that  it  is  also  my  birthday,  and  that  we  have  ar- 
ranged that  you  shall  have  seat  at  table  between 
my  lord  and  me,  .  .  .  the  guest  of  honor. 
Though  the  honor  shall  be  ours  in  claiming  you 
as  such,  brave  knight."  Thereupon  she  arose 
with  a  pretty  show  of  reluctance  from  the  cush- 
ioned window-seat.  "How  old  would  you  take 
me  to  be?"  she  concluded  with  an  arch  look. 

Sir  Richard,  extremely  sensible  of  the  intimacy 
of  Lady  Anna's  question,  flushed  with  embar- 
rassment. He  begged  to  be  excused  from  an- 
swering, averring  that  he  had  ever  been  an  ill 
judge  of  women's  ages.  When  she  pressed  him 
for  a  reply,  which  she  contrived  to  do  without 
seeming  to  be  over  bold,  he  ventured  a  surmise 
that  she  must  be  nearly  of  an  age  with  himself. 

"Why,  what  a  flatterer  you  are  to  be  sure, 
Richard,"  she  said,  laughing  gaily.  "Beshrew 

209 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

me  for  a  witch,  an  you  are  anything  more  than 
a  mere  boy!  I  am  thirty- three,  sir  knight. 
Thirty-three  this  day.  But  come,"  she  added, 
taking  his  hand,  pressing  it  gently  and  casting 
sidelong  glances  out  of  a  pair  of  wonderfully 
expressive  brown  eyes;  "it  is  not  my  wish  to  keep 
you  altogether  to  myself.  Permit  me  to  acquaint 
you  with  the  company  in  the  hall,"  Lady  Anna 
pursued,  as  she  led  Sir  Richard  into  the  throng 
of  courtiers  and  maidens.  "Till  we  meet  beside 
the  wassail  board,  make  you  merry,"  she  said 
then.  "And  forget  not  to  address  a  word  or  two 
in  my  direction.  I  shall  esteem  each  one  of  them 
a  ...  jewel,  Richard." 

The  young  knight  perceived,  the  while  he  was 
moving  from  group  to  group  receiving  introduc- 
tions, that  the  council  of  powdered  jackdaws  had 
been  adjourned.  Its  members  were  spread  out 
over  the  hall,  singling  out  men,  one  after  another, 
and  engaging  them  in  a  momentary  conversation. 
He  was  curious  to  know  why,  after  each  of  these 
brief  exchanges,  he  at  once  became  the  object  of 
these  men's  scrutinizing  glances.  But,  though  he 
recalled  the  incident  later,  it  was  temporarily  lost 
and  forgotten  amid  the  banalities  of  polite  talk 

210 


THE    COBBLER'S    FEAST 

to  which  he  was  obliged  to  lend  constant  ear.  Sir 
Richard  entered  wholly  into  the  holiday  spirit 
pervading  the  company,  however,  and  served  out 
honeyed  words  with  a  zest  quite  equal  in  degree 
with  that  which  he  drank  them  in.  He  found  the 
change  from  his  ardorous  and  lonely  journey  to 
this  atmosphere  of  good  cheer  and  loud  merri- 
ment to  be  most  agreeable.  His  message  had 
been  delivered,  his  work  was  now  done,  and  he 
felt  altogether  care- free  and  happy. 

Before  the  hour  set  for  the  feast  in  the  great 
hall,  he  was  singled  out  by  a  page  and  conducted 
to  a  room,  which  he  was  told  was  to  be  his  during 
his  stay  in  Castle  Yewe.  It  was  ample  in  size 
and  magnificently  furnished.  Its  walls  and  ceil- 
ing were  trimmed  in  deep  oaken  paneling.  Over 
the  fire-place,  which  occupied  quite  two-thirds  of 
the  west  side  of  the  chamber,  the  woodwork  was 
fretted  and  scrolled  from  mantel-shelf  to  ceil- 
ing. Upon  the  massive  oak  bed  were  neatly  ar- 
ranged a  suit  of  slashed  silk  and  velvet,  a  fine 
lace  and  linen  upper  garment,  and  boots  of  soft 
leather  to  match.  There  was  also  an  elegantly 
fashioned  rapier  to  take  the  place  of  the  service- 
blade  that  he  habitually  carried  at  his  side.  His 

211 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

saddle-bags  were  flung  across  a  holder  fashioned 
for  the  purpose  of  bearing  these  inseparable  com- 
panions of  the  traveler. 

Sir  Richard  sat  down  upon  the  edge  of  the  bed, 
and  before  starting  to  change  his  dress,  took  out 
the  cutting  of  saffron  velvet  from  the  breast  of 
his  doublet.  He  held  it  at  arm's  length,  regard- 
ing it  for  quite  a  space  with  an  expression  of  deep 
melancholy.  He  thought  again  of  the  beautiful 
Lady  Anna's  parting,  whispered  words — "I  shall 
esteem  each  one  of  them  a  ...  jewel,  Rich- 
ard." They  -had  recurred  to  him  many  times, 
and  in  each  instance  his  heart  had  undeniably 
responded  in  a  tenderly  sentimental  way.  It  oc- 
curred to  his  imaginative  fancy  that  the  bit  of 
cloth  had  eyes,  and  that  they  were  looking  at  him 
with  sad,  reproachful  glances.  He  felt  less 
guilty  after  he  had  taken  up  his  sword  and  sol- 
emnly renewed  his  vow.  He  made  up  his  mind 
that  never  again  would  he  be  untrue  to  the  cut- 
ting of  velvet  and  the  maid  by  whom  it  had  been 
relinquished  into  his  keeping,  but  whom  he  had 
not  yet  seen. 

With  a  clearer  conscience  he  went  about  un- 
buckling his  armor  and  bedecking  himself  in  the 

212 


THE    COBBLER'S    FEAST 

rich  finery  that  had  been  so  thoughtfully  pro- 
vided for  him.  Sir  Richard  was  the  last  guest  to 
come  down  the  wide  stairway  to  the  floor  of  the 
hall.  Along  each  balustrade  was  a  row  of  carved 
sockets  in  which  wax  torches  had  been  set,  and 
when  the  young  knight  stepped  slowly  down  be- 
tween their  soft  light,  full  many  a  languishing 
glance  sped  upward  toward  him;  full  many  a 
feminine  heart  beat  in  a  perfect  rhythm  with  his 
tread  upon  the  gray  stone  steps. 

Following  Sir  Richard's  appearance  there  was 
a  concerted  movement  in  the  direction  of  the  din- 
ing hall,  with  Lord  Douglas,  Lady  Anna,  and  the 
belated  arrival  in  the  lead.  The  room  in  which 
the  feast  of  Crispian  had  been  spread  was  of  vast 
dimensions.  Its  ceiling  seemed  low  in  compari- 
son with  its  great  length  and  breadth,  and  was 
paneled  in  highly  polished  red  cedar.  Wainscot- 
ing of  the  same  wood,  extending  to  a  height  of 
five  feet  above  the  floor,  stretched  around  its  four 
sides.  Above  this  the  walls  were  covered  with 
rich  tapestries,  with  designs  woven  in  arras,  rep- 
resenting a  brave  array  of  martial  scenes,  pic- 
tures of  the  chase  and  conflicts  within  the  lists. 

Stretching  from  end  to  end  of  the  hall  stood  the 

213 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

magnificently  decorated  table,  which  had  been 
spread  with  lavish  and  bountiful  hands.  Forty 
wax  torches  shed  a  bright  glow  over  the  scene  of 
princely  festivities. 

Sir  Richard  was  indeed  the  guest  of  honor,  hav- 
ing a  seat  above  the  salt  between  the  lord  and 
lady  of  the  castle.  A  silken  canopy,  depending 
from  gilded  chains  fastened  to  the  ceiling,  swung 
just  above  their  heads.  Musicians,  dressed  in  the 
fantastic  garb  of  the  troubadours  of  that  time, 
filled  the  room  with  delightful  melodies.  Mer- 
rily the  feast  progressed,  with  constantly  aug- 
menting talk  and  laughter  as  the  delicately  chased 
silver  flagons  emptied  their  sparkling  streams 
into  the  tankards  held  beneath  them.  There  was 
wassail  on  wassail,  downed  amid  the  tinkling  of 
golden  cups  and  the  hoarse  bellowing  of  bearded, 
tipsy  knights.  Sir  Richard  took  his  full  measure 
of  enjoyment  out  of  the  occasion,  though  he  suf- 
fered a  secret  regret  because  of  his  inability  to 
keep  up  his  end  with  some  of  the  old  campaigners 
in  the  matter  of  the  drink.  Even  now  he  was 
sensible  of  the  fact  that  surrounding  objects  were 
assuming  an  exaggerated  brilliancy  and  beauty, 
combined  with  a  certain  vagueness  that  rendered 

214 


THE    COBBLER'S    FEAST 

their  charm  indefinably  more  alluring.  He  felt 
his  blood  coursing  like  molten  silver  through  his 
veins.  His  only  outward  manifestations  of  the 
wine's  stimulating  influence,  however,  were  a 
fastidious  politeness  and  solicitous  interest  on  be- 
half of  those  about  him. 

When  Lady  Anna  pressed  his  foot  softly  be- 
neath the  board,  the  young  knight  again  com- 
mitted the  sin  of  being  untrue  to  the  cutting  of 
saffron  velvet. 

"  'Tis  now  your  turn  to  give  us  wassail,  Rich- 
ard," said  she,  with  a  slight  uplifting  of  her 
brows  that  went  to  his  head  with  a  greater  effect 
than  the  wine. 

"Give  thee  all  bonnie  Scotland,  .  .  .  her 
good  sovereign,  .  .  .  Lord  Douglas,  our  good 
host,  the  lovely  Lady  Anna,  and  the  King  of 
England,"  Sir  Richard  shouted,  getting  to  his 
feet,  with  brimming  glass  stretched  half  across 
the  table. 

A  brawny  knight,  dressed  handsomely  in 
brown  leather  slashed  with  crimson  velvet, 
reached  across  and  rudely  struck  his  hand,  slop- 
ping a  good  portion  of  the  wine  about  among  the 
guests.  Without  a  moment's  hesitation  Sir  Rich- 

215 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

ard  gave  his  insulter  the  remainder  of  it  in  his 
face,  amid  a  transitory  silence,  profound  and 
tomblike. 

Followed  then,  upon  the  instant,  the  excited 
babbling  of  many  voices,  from  which  entangle- 
ment of  sound  Sir  Richard  contrived  to  isolate 
the  fact  that  he  had  been  challenged,  and  that 
they  were  to  meet  in  the  castle  yard  at  dawning 
of  that  morning. 

"There  are  here,  around  this  board  to-night,  a 
dozen  better  blades  than  he,"  Lady  Anna  whis- 
pered low  in  the  young  knight's  ear  when  some- 
thing approaching  order  had  been  restored. 
"For  my  sake,  Richard,  you  must  not  fail  to  van- 
quish him,"  she  added,  with  another  pressure  of 
her  dainty  foot. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

OF   A   SERIES    OF    REMARKABLE    DUELS,   AND 
DE  CLAVERLOK'S  PERIL 

THEIR  meeting  place  was  within  the 
larger  of  the  bailey-courts,  when  day  was 
just  on  the  dawn.  Towering  round  about 
them  were  the  rough  walls  of  the  huge  castle. 
Sir  Richard  noted  that  every  embrasure  had  sud- 
denly sprouted  a  multiple  of  bright  eyes,  all  gaz- 
ing down  at  the  combatants  making  ready  to  be- 
gin their  battle  at  the  bottom  of  the  damp  well. 
The  meeting  turned  out  to  be  but  the  merest 
trifle  for  the  young  knight.  Duke  Francis  was 
a  past  master  of  the  arts  of  war-craft  and  had 
taught  him  thoroughly  well.  Once,  Sir  Richard 
was  proud  to  remember,  when  the  old  Duke  hap- 
pened to  have  been  in  an  uncommonly  amiable 
mood,  he  had  assured  him  that  he  was  the  most  apt 
of  all  his  pupils.  The  young  knight  fought  only 
when  there  was  a  just  cause  at  issue,  and  then 

217 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

with  his  whole  heart  set  upon  winning  the  battle. 
Upon  this  occasion  he  had  very  little  trouble  in 
disabling  his  adversary's  sword  arm.  But  not, 
however,  before  playing  with  him  a  considerable 
time  in  deference  to  the  astonishingly  early  risers, 
who  had  dared  the  chill  blasts  to  peer  through  the 
open  windows. 

"Brava,  Sir  Richard!"  the  plaudits  swept  from 
opening  to  opening  around  the  gray  walls  when 
the  business  was  over,  upon  which  the  young 
knight  made  a  slight  bow  of  acknowledgment 
and  went  hastily  back  to  his  warm  bed,  carry- 
ing with  him  there,  besides  somewhat  of  an  ach- 
ing head  from  excesses  of  the  night  before,  the 
regret  that  he  had  been  unable  to  give  his  audi- 
tors a  prettier  play  in  return  for  all  their  pains. 

That  morning's  encounter,  however,  proved  to 
be  but  a  drowsy  prelude  to  a  veritable  whirlwind 
of  fighting  duels.  Without  so  much  as  a  "By  thy 
leave,  sir,"  they  would  jostle  Sir  Richard  roughly 
about,  fling  gauntlets  at  his  feet,  and  hurl  in- 
sults into  his  very  teeth.  Indeed,  dueling  grew  to 
be  an  accepted  part  of  his  daily  routine,  and  a 
day  without  its  fight  would  have  left  him  with  the 
feeling  that  something  important  had  remained 

218 


A    SERIES    OF   DUELS 

undone.  But  Fortune  continued  to  smile  bright- 
ly upon  him;  and,  saving  for  a  few  slight 
scratches,  he  carried  no  mark  to  bear  him  wit- 
ness of  the  amazingly  great  number  of  personal 
combats  in  which  he  became  engaged. 

By  nature  Sir  Richard  was  of  a  peace-loving 
disposition.  Only  upon  one  occasion  had  he  de- 
liberately set  out  to  pick  a  quarrel,  and  that  was 
with  the  Renegade  Duke,  for  the  purpose  of  aid- 
ing his  escape  from  captivity.  He  was  accord- 
ingly much  puzzled  as  to  the  cause  of  this  sudden 
plethora  of  insults  and  challenges.  That  the  men 
were  all  envious  of  the  open  favors  that  Lady 
Anna  continued  to  bestow  upon  him,  was  the  only 
possible  reason  to  which  he  could  ascribe  them. 
He  appreciated  that  she  must  have  an  infinite 
number  of  admirers  to  be  thus  jealously  guarded. 
Another  circumstance  that  appealed  to  him  as 
most  singular,  was  the  fact  that  once  he  had  fin- 
ished having  it  out  with  his  enemies  they  became 
immediately  his  fast  friends.  Sir  Richard's  en- 
counters were  attended  by  a  strangely  favorable 
issue  of  events,  for  only  in  one  instance  had  he 
been  forced  to  inflict  upon  his  adversary  anything 
like  a  dangerous  wound;  and  Sandufferin,  the 

219 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

unfortunate  exception  and  mightiest  wielder  of 
a  blade  in  Scotland,  made  an  ultimate  recovery 
from  his  injuries.  It  grew  to  be  a  current  sub- 
ject of  amused  talk  that  when  the  latest  comer 
had  declared  his  intention  of  facing  the  young 
knight's  deft  sword,  those  whom  he  had  met  and 
vanquished  would  gather  about  him  and  convey 
their  knowledge  to  him  of  the  newcomer's  par- 
ticular methods  of  fighting. 

"Look  at  them,  Anna,"  Lord  Douglas  re- 
marked upon  an  occasion  when  a  number  of  men, 
many  with  bandaged  hands  and  arms,  were  gath- 
ered close  about  Sir  Richard.  "They  are  giving 
points  to  their  master,  I  take  it.  Never,  within 
my  knowledge,  has  there  crossed  the  borders  of 
Scotland  a  greater  swordsman  than  this  youthful 
knight.  Marry,  and  how  he  seemeth  to  enjoy  it, 
Anna,  preserving  the  happiest  of  good  humor 
through  it  all !  But  soon  will  I  call  a  halt  to  the 
saturnalia  of  fighting  and  acquaint  him  with  the 
contents  of  Henry's  warrant.  He'll  make  us  a 
right  brave  chief  of  horse,  Anna — that  will  he. 
He  grows  impatient  to  fare  away  southward. 
Every  day  now  does  he  inquire  of  me  whether 
his  sovereign's  business  here  is  done.  An  he  but 

220 


A   SERIES    OF   DUELS 

guessed  that  he  is  held  captive,  I  miss  my  shot 
an  the  gates  and  bars  of  Yewe  would  long  hold 
him," 

"Nay — that  they  would  not,"  Lady  Anna 
agreed.  "  'Tis  the  cutting  of  saffron  velvet  that 
beckons  him  away,  my  lord.  Valiantly  though  I 
have  striven,  I  cannot  wean  his  regard  from 
that  bit  of  cloth.  Many  times  lately  have  I  ob- 
served him  sitting  in  lonely  corners  and  regard- 
ing it  with  soulful  eyes.  Would  that  I  had  him 
for  pupil  in  the  place  of  that  silly  boy,  War- 
beck." 

"Ah!  But  that  was  a  stroke,  Lady  Anna!" 
said  Douglas  admiringly.  "The  oftener  I  look 
upon  him,  the  more  perfect  seemeth  his  resem- 
blance to  the  Yorkist  brood.  How  doth  he  pro- 
gress ?" 

"Slow,  my  lord — tiresome  slow.  'Tis  hard  to 
make  him  to  forget  his  plebeian  ancestors.  How 
fares  it  with  the  prisoner — he  whom  you  have 
mewed  within  the  dungeon?" 

"De  Claverlok,  mean  you?  Bah!  'Tis  a  gruff 
old  warrior,  that — with  his  ehs!  and  ehs!  Still 
doth  he  stubbornly  refuse  to  pledge  me  his  word 
to  separate  himself  from  Sir  Richard.  Nor,  by 

221 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

my  faith,  can  I  gain  his  promise  to  fight  beneath 
our  standard." 

"What  then — the  block,  my  lord?"  interro- 
gated Lady  Douglas,  yawning. 

"Aye — the  block,"  replied  Douglas,  quietly. 

On  the  morning  following  the  day  upon  which 
this  dialogue  took  place,  Sir  Richard  sauntered 
down  the  stairs  to  find  Lady  Anna  reclining  in- 
dolently at  ease  within  the  curtained  alcove  where 
first  he  had  met  her.  She  had  with  her  a  falcon, 
which  she  was  stroking  and  feeding  with  bits  of 
bread  held  daintily  between  her  red  lips.  She 
looked  up,  greeting  the  young  knight's  coming 
with  a  rare  smile. 

"By  the  mass,  dear  Richard,"  said  she,  "and 
how  early  we  are !  Was  it  the  topsy-turvy  going 
of  the  men  at  daybreak  that  brings  you  so  soon 
afoot?  Did  you  hear  the  sounding  of  the  tucket- 
sonuance  in  yonder  yard?  Or,  tell  me,  boy,  is  it 
but  another  trifle  of  a  duel?" 

Right  well  was  she  aware  that  Sir  Richard  dis- 
liked to  be  called  a  boy,  and  she  appeared  to  take 
a  secret  delight  in  thus  teasing  him.  As  was 
usual,  he  denied  the  propriety  of  the  name. 

"Tut,  tut,  then — bloody  giant,"  said  she,  laugh- 
222 


A    SERIES    OF   DUELS 

ing  merrily.  "Is  it,  I  beg  of  you,  another  play 
of  blades?" 

"In  the  whole  of  Scotland,"  retorted  Sir  Rich- 
ard, "remain*'  there  a  warrior  whom  I  have  not 
met?" 

He  had  encountered  three  of  them  the  day  be- 
fore, disarming  two  and  slightly  wounding  the 
other. 

"Remains  yet  the  mightiest  of  them  all,"  Lady 
Anna  answered,  surrendering  another  morsel  of 
bread  to  the  pet  falcon. 

"His  name,  Lady  Anna?" 

"Bull  Bengough.  Would  you  dare  to  break  a 
lance  with  him  in  the  approaching  tournament 
.  .  .  for  me,  Sir  Richard?" 

"One  more,  or  less,  what  matters  it,  Lady 
Anna?"  said  Sir  Richard.  "The  game  is  palling 
upon  me.  I  swear  I  will." 

"I  am  growing  fair  frightened  of  your  magic 
invincibility,"  said  Lady  Anna.  "Which  are  they 
— fair  spirits,  or  foul  shades,  by  whom  you  have 
been  gifted  with  a  charmed  life?  In  sober  earn- 
est, Richard,  let  me  say  to  you  that  a  momentous 
question  hinges  upon  your  meeting  with  Bull 
Bengough,"  she  added  seriously,  pressing  the 

223 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

young  knight's  hand  by  way  of  a  reward  for  his 
promise,  and  then  went  on  to  fill  his  head  with 
gentle  flattery. 

She  told  him  of  how  the  men-at-arms  had  sal- 
lied out  that  morning  to  give  battle  to  a  certain 
traitorous  upstart.  Unconsciously  Sir  Richard's 
mind  reverted  to  Tyrrell.  After  that,  for  a  con- 
siderable space,  they  sat  together  in  silence, 
watching  the  workingmen  engaged  upon  their 
task  of  bedizening  the  seating-place  overlooking 
the  lists  where  the  coming  tournament  was  de- 
signed to  be  held. 

Presently  Lady  Anna  went  from  the  alcove, 
taking  with  her  a  bundle  of  books  and  manu- 
scripts which,  Sir  Richard  had  frequently  re- 
marked, she  often  carried  about  with  her  through 
the  galleries. 

Since  his  mad  entry  through  the  sallyport  of 
Yewe,  this  was  the  first  clear  breathing  space  Sir 
Richard  had  been  allowed.  He  suddenly  thought 
of  his  companion  of  that  eventful  ride.  What 
with  the  dining  and  the  wining,  and  the  dancing 
attendance  upon  this  captivating  maid  and  that, 
and  the  singularly  rapid  succession  of  duels,  his 
time  had  been  pretty  well  occupied.  "But  certes," 

224 


A    SERIES    OF   DUELS 

he  said  to  himself,  "these  are  small  excuses  for 
having  so  absolutely  forgotten  de  Claverlok, 
whom,  by  my  faith,  I  have  not  clapt  eyes  upon 
since  leaving  him  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  to  go 
into  the  presence  of  Douglas.  True,  Lord  Doug- 
las assured  me  that  he  was  to  be  rendered  com- 
fortable in  other  quarters.  I  dare  say  he  is  gone 
by  now,"  he  concluded.  "But  I'll  away  to  the 
guards  to  discover  me  what  has  become  of  the 
good  fellow." 

But  Sir  Richard  was  counting  the  spots  before 
his  dies  had  been  cast.  He  borrowed  every 
guard's  ear  he  could  find  within  the  precincts  of 
the  castle,  and  returned  from  the  long  round 
barren  of  the  faintest  hint  in  regard  to  his 
friend's  whereabouts.  Not  one  of  them,  so  they 
all  swore,  had  so  much  as  heard  a  whisper  of  his 
name. 

Feeling  a  presentiment  that  some  direful  mis- 
hap had  betided  his  faithful  companion,  and 
heaping  maledictions  upon  himself  for  a  thought- 
less ingrate,  the  young  knight  was  walking 
slowly  along  one  of  the  inner  galleries.  As  he 
parted  a  drapery  he  came  suddenly  upon  the  fool, 
Lightsom,  who  had  discarded  his  motley  and  bells 

225 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

for  a  garb  of  black.  His  habitually  mirthful 
countenance  was  wearing  an  expression  entirely 
in  sympathy  with  his  somber  habit. 

"Give  you  a  good-morrow,  Lightsom,"  said 
Sir  Richard,  meaning  but  to  give  the  fool  greet- 
ing and  pass  on. 

"Thou'rt  hunting  my  name  by  the  heels,  Sir 
Richard,"  Lightsom  answered,  pausing  to  give 
the  young  knight  speech.  "Vanisheth  the  motley, 
vanisheth  Lightsom,  the  laughing  fool.  Vanish- 
eth as  well  my  good  master,  and  I  discover  me 
without  a  body  whereupon  to  practise  my  cutting 
art  withal.  To-day,  good  my  knight,  I  was  to 
play  the  executioner.  Till  I  doff  this  habit  let 
my  name  be  Gruesom.  .  .  .  Bloodysom. 
.  .  .  Anything,  forsooth,  but  Lightsom !  Dost 
take  in  the  dolour  of  my  visage?" 

"Ah!  What  an  end  to  come  by,"  observed  Sir 
Richard.  "An  ax,  wielded  by  a  fool.  Name  me 
thy  unhappy  victim — and  loose  thy  hold  of  my 
cape,  fellow." 

"Marry,  sir  knight,  shudder  not  thus !  Is  the 
touch  of  a  fool  less  contaminative  than  that  of 
the  executioner?  An  it  be,  I  wot  not  why.  One 
murders  the  King's  good  English,  the  other  the 

226 


A    SERIES    OF   DUELS 

King's  good  subjects — both  are  the  slaves  of  un- 
yielding circumstance.  And  besides,  good  my 
knight,  the  head,  after  its  separation  from  the 
body,  recks  not  of  the  means  whereof  it  was  ac- 
complished. Thy  sword — my  ax — 'tis  all  the 
same  to  't.  So  it  be  a  bold,  clean,  and  clever 
stroke,  mark  ye!" 

"Have  done  with  your  parleying,  Lightsom, 
and " 

"Say  Grimsom,  Sir  Richard,"  the  fool  inter- 
rupted whiningly.  "Smear  not  my  melancholy 
cloth  with  grime!" 

"Well,  .  .  .  Grimsom,  then,  .  .  .  give 
me  thy  unhappy  victim's  name?" 

Leaning  forward  till  his  repulsive  face  almost 
touched  Sir  Richard's,  he  skewed  his  features  all 
awry  in  a  horrible  grimace.  This  was  his  only 
answer.  The  young  knight  instantly  went  cold 
to  the  marrow,  and  repeated  his  question  tensely, 
passing  the  fool  a  rose  noble. 

"This,"  said  Lightsom  tantalizingly,  balancing 
the  yellow  disc  upon  his  raised  forefinger,  "will 
purchase  thee  one  letter  of  his  name,  .  .  .  just 
one  letter,  Sir  Richard.  I  am  as  hungry  for  gold 
as  the  block  is  thirsty  for  blood.  Why  need  the 

227 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

pair  of  us  be  cheated?  Say,  .  .  .  wilt  buy  me 
his  full  name  in  these  round  baubles?" 

Without  a  word  Sir  Richard  counted  out  and 
passed  the  fool  sixteen  more. 

"Have  I  made  the  count  correctly?"  he 
whispered  hoarsely. 

Lightsom  went  then  to  tallying  with  his  claw- 
like  finger  upon  his  beak  of  a  nose. 

"In  truth,"  he  muttered,  "I  had  expected  but 
ten  more.  .  .  .  Six.  .  .  .  Six.  .  .  .  Ah !  I,  by  play- 
ing just  then  the  fool,  have  myself  disgraced  my 
somber  trappings.  I  have  clean  forgotten  that 
his  name  is  Lionel,  by  the  rood,  ...  eh  1" 

This  was  enough  for  Sir  Richard.  In  a  frenzy 
of  poignant  regret  and  mortal  fear,  and  leaving 
the  black  dwarf  crying  shrilly  for  him  not  to  di- 
vulge the  source  of  his  information,  he  dashed 
away  down  the  long  gallery  in  a  mad  search  of 
Lady  Anna. 


CHAPTER   XV 

OF  THE  GALLERY  OF  THE  GRIFFINS'  HEADS 

BITTEREST  remorse  winged  the  young 
knight's  feet;  apprehension  became  the 
mother  of   audacity;   and  without  any 
ceremonious  ado  he  made  for  that  part  of  the 
castle  which  he  knew  was  apportioned  to  the  ex- 
clusive uses  of  Lady  Anna.    Like  a  hawk  wing- 
ing its  predatory  flight  against  a  covey  of  un- 
protected and  gentle  doves,  he  swooped  down 
upon  the  lady's  retinue  of  serving-maids. 

The  contact,  however,  was  as  fugitive  as  it  was 
tempestuous  and  violent,  and  beyond  leaving 
them  all  of  a-flutter,  weeping  hysterically,  and 
earnestly  protesting  that  this  was  an  hour  of  the 
morning  during  which  their  mistress  forbade  the 
slightest  interruption  or  disturbance,  he  accom- 
plished not  a  single  point  in  the  behalf  of  his 
friend. 

While  impatiently  awaiting  Lady  Anna's  ap- 
229 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

pearance,  he  fell  to  wandering  through  the  wide, 
thronged  halls,  and  narrow,  lonely,  and  deserted 
galleries.  In  opening  a  door  leading  from  one 
of  these,  he  stumbled  upon  a  blind  passageway, 
which,  to  all  appearances,  was  devoted  to  no  other 
purpose  than  that  of  a  vantage-point,  whence 
were  to  be  had  a  view  of  the  open  glades  and  for- 
ests, and  the  towers,  turrets,  barbecan,  and  walls 
commanding  them.  Gloomily  he  stood  gazing 
through  one  of  the  deep  embrasures,  which 
pierced  the  outer  wall  of  the  gallery  from  end  to 
end,  upon  the  half  drawn  bridge.  It  seemed  to 
him  ages  gone  since  de  Claverlok  and  he  had 
thundered  side  by  side  above  its  moldering 
planks.  "What  a  brave,  unselfish  fellow  he 
was,"  mused  Sir  Richard,  "to  cast  his  fortunes 
along  with  mine,  when,  by  the  simple  tugging  of 
a  rein,  he  might  have  ridden  among  his  compan- 
ions  and  into  safety.  Well,  .  .  .  I'll  have  him 
free.  I  vow  I'll  have  him  set  at  liberty.  Or,  by 
my  soul,  I'll  lay  my  thoughtless,  selfish  head  be- 
side his  generous  one  upon  the  block." 

Yet  how  good  it  was  to  live,  Sir  Richard 
thought:  to  be  free;  to  mark  the  bright  sun- 
shine; to  watch  the  sparkling  hoar-frost  disap- 

230 


OF    THE    GRIFFINS'    HEADS 

pearing  in  floating  pennants  of  silvery  mist 
against  the  purple  shadows  lurking  within  the 
background  of  the  firs.  By  thus  enumerating  to 
himself  some  of  the  joys  of  life  he  was  not  mean- 
ing to  qualify  the  integrity  of  his  oath.  He  was 
sincere  at  the  moment  in  his  determination  to 
free  de  Claverlok,  or  suffer  the  penalty  of  death 
along  with  him. 

Sir  Richard  was  leaning  heavily  against  the 
outer  wall,  yielding  to  a  host  of  melancholy  reflec- 
tions ;  his  shoulder  disconsolately  pressing  against 
the  casement  of  the  embrasure.  Quite  by  chance 
his  eyes  fell  upon  a  row  of  bronze  griffins'  heads, 
each  occupying  the  center  of  a  line  of  deep  oaken 
panels,  which  extended  along  the  opposite  wall 
from  the  doorway  through  which  he  had  entered 
to  the  end  of  the  sealed  passageway.  Doubtless 
it  was  the  repellant  hideousness  of  their  faces 
that  arrested  and  fixed  his  attention.  Their 
curled  tongues  protruded  in  a  series  of  abhorrent 
grimaces  that  tended  to  fascinate  the  observer. 
The  young  knight  singled  out  the  head  just  across 
from  him  and  fell  to  studying  it  minutely.  He 
grew  sensible  of  a  boyish  desire  to  attempt  to  dis- 
tort his  features  in  a  manner  similar  to  it,  to 

231 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

which  desire  he  finally  yielded,  and  talked  to  it, 
moreover,  as  though  its  bronze  ears  were  pos- 
sessed of  the  power  to  take  in  his  vain  expostula- 
tions. 

Not  infrequently  does  it  fall  out  that  an  inane 
action  is  the  parent  of  a  most  happy  result.  This 
was  true  in  the  present  case,  for,  through  looking 
so  long  and  intently  upon  the  weird  head  of  the 
griffin,  Sir  Richard  remarked  that  its  tongue  ap- 
peared to  be  more  free  within  its  distended  maw 
than  those  of  its  neighbors.  He  stepped  across 
and  laid  his  finger  upon  it.  It  moved.  He 
tugged  at  it.  There  was  the  sound  as  of  the  lift- 
ing of  a  latch,  and  the  griffin's  head,  which  was 
secured  to  the  woodwork  by  a  hinge,  swung  in- 
stantly free  of  the  oaken  panel. 

Within  the  circular  recess  thus  disclosed  ap- 
peared a  brass  knob,  which,  upon  being  turned, 
released  another  fastening.  The  entire  panel 
then  slid  freely  to  the  left,  discovering  a  narrow, 
crevice-like  passageway  that  stretched  away  be- 
yond the  range  of  the  young  knight's  vision. 

More  with  the  aim  of  seeking  a  momentary 
distraction  from  his  rueful  thoughts  than  in  the 
hope  of  making  any  new  or  startling  discoveries, 

232 


OF    THE    GRIFFINS'   HEADS 

he  closed  the  griffin's  head  and  clambered  through 
the  paneled  opening.  Upon  assuring  himself 
that  there  was  a  way  of  thrusting  back  the  secret 
door  from  inside,  he  made  everything  fast  and 
crept  cautiously  ahead  in  the  direction  of  a  row 
of  lights,  which  shone  dimly  through  openings 
upon  his  left  hand  and  splashed  against  the  wall 
to  his  right,  thus  serving  vaguely  to  illuminate 
the  dusty,  cobwebby  place. 

The  lights  proved  to  emanate  from  mere  slits 
of  windows  set  with  many-colored  glass.  He 
peered  through  the  first,  which  was  sufficiently 
transparent  to  disclose  to  his  view  a  room  and 
everything  that  was  transpiring  within. 

The  walls  of  this  chamber  were  covered  with 
the  richest  of  hangings.  Round  about  were  scat- 
tered many  massive  cases  filled  with  books.  In- 
deed, Sir  Richard  noted  that  its  furnishings  were 
all  patterned  after  an  exquisite  fashion,  and  ar- 
ranged, withal,  in  an  uncommonly  tasteful  and 
pleasing  manner. 

In  front  of  a  cheerful  fire  burning  briskly 
within  the  wide  chimney-place  sat  a  fair-haired 
boy.  He  was  reclining  at  ease  upon  a  deep-seated 

chair,  and  the  firelight,  playing  upon  his  ruffled, 

233 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

snowy  linen  upper  garment,  his  pallid,  handsome, 
aquiline  features,  and  long,  curly,  yellow  hair,  set 
before  the  young  knight  one  of  the  prettiest  pic- 
tures he  had  ever  looked  upon. 

Seated  upon  a  stool  beside  the  youth's  knee  was 
Lady  Anna,  who  was  engaged  upon  reading  to 
him  out  of  a  manuscript.  That  which  she  was 
reading,  Sir  Richard  thought,  appeared  to  hold 
immeasurably  less  of  interest  for  her  distin- 
guished looking  auditor  than  the  reader  thereof, 
so  greedily  was  his  gaze  devouring  her.  If  ever 
love  and  devotion  shone  through  the  eyes  from 
the  heart,  they  were  shining  in  that  room  and 
upon  that  woman  then.  The  young  knight  be- 
came conscious  of  a  feeling  of  guilt.  It  was  as 
though  he  had  profaned  a  consecrated  temple. 

Since,  however,  an  accident  had  brought  him 
there,  he  regretted  that  he  was  unable  to  hear 
what  Lady  Anna  was  reading.  But  he  remained, 
gathering  different  impressions  of  the  scene  by 
looking  through  the  various  colored  panes,  till 
she  arose  to  leave.  This  sentence,  then,  spoken 
aloud  and  firmly  from  her  station  beside  the 
youth's  chair,  came  distinctly  to  his  ears: 

"To  you,"  she  was  saying,  "there  shall  be  no 
234 


OF    THE    GRIFFINS'    HEADS 

such  person  in  all  the  world  as  Warbeck.  You 
must  forget  even  that  there  was  ever  such  a  name. 
Your  future " 

Her  concluding  remarks  were  lost  to  Sir  Rich- 
ard's hearing.  Lady  Anna  then  brushed  aside  the 
drapery  and  disappeared  out  of  the  room.  For 
many  minutes  thereafter  the  youth's  eyes  re- 
mained fixed  upon  the  swinging  draperies,  mo- 
tionless and  longingly,  whilst  down  his  pallid 
cheeks  coursed  many  a  bitter  tear. 

Leaving  him  to  his  sorrow,  which  would  have 
been  more  poignant  had  he  been  enabled  to  look 
into  that  future  that  Lady  Anna  was  holding  be- 
fore him  as  a  lure,  Sir  Richard  continued  warily 
on  his  journey  along  the  pinched  passageway. 
By  the  squares  of  light  thrown  at  long  but  regu- 
lar intervals  against  the  right  wall,  he  divined  that 
the  secret  exit  was  pierced  with  windows  through- 
out its  entire  length.  Through  each  of  these  he 
stole  a  look  as  he  advanced,  being  obliged  to  stand 
always  on  tip-toe  to  make  his  brief  surveys.  He 
gathered  the  information  that  a  suite  of  six  large 
rooms  had  been  set  aside  for  the  uses  of  the  hand- 
some youth.  There  was  an  entrance  giving  upon 
the  last  from  the  secret  passageway.  The  young 

235 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

knight  made  no  attempt  to  open  it  then,  but  crept 
onward  and  looked  through  the  next  window. 
Between  the  floor  of  the  last  room  and  the  floor 
of  the  spacious  hall  into  which  he  was  now  look- 
ing there  was  a  sheer  drop  of  thirty  feet ;  perhaps 
even  more.  From  the  long  table  standing  in  its 
center  and  the  chairs  arranged  in  tiers  round 
about,  he  took  it  to  be  a  council  hall,  a  place  of 
formal  meetings  of  state.  It  was  surmounted 
by  a  lofty,  domed  ceiling,  decorated  with  multi- 
colored glass,  corresponding  with  the  panes 
through  which  he  was  having  a  view  of  the  cham- 
ber. 

Pursuing  his  way  onward  past  the  row  of 
windows  opening  upon  the  hall,  he  arrived  soon 
at  the  end  of  the  passageway,  which  was  marked 
by  a  yawning  vent-hole,  with  the  opening  at  his 
feet  dropping  into  abysmal  depths  of  darkness, 
and  the  one  above  his  head  gaping  like  a  sooty 
flue.  Iron  rungs  set  securely  into  the  masonry 
of  the  wall  furthest  removed  from  him  disap- 
peared into  the  swart  obscurity  above  and  below. 

Consumed  with  curiosity  and  a  desire  to  push 
his  explorations  to  the  end,  he  stepped  across,  set 
his  foot  upon  the  ladder,  and  clambered  skyward. 

236 


OF   THE    GRIFFINS'   HEADS 

A  trap-door,  securely  battened  from  within, 
stopped  his  progress  at  the  top.  Surmising  that 
it  opened  upon  a  runway  of  one  of  the  many 
embattled  towers,  he  started  downward.  Past  the 
floor  of  the  passageway  he  lowered  himself,  down, 
down,  till  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  penetrat- 
ing into  the  very  belly  of  the  earth.  At  the  bot- 
tom he  came  upon  a  kind  of  square  room,  with  a 
massive,  barred  door  opening  from  one  of  its 
sides.  The  air  here  was  excessively  damp,  chill, 
and  fetid  with  noisome  odors. 

So  noiselessly  as  might  be  he  shot  back  the 
rusty  bolts  and  made  shift  to  open  the  heavy 
door.  Slowly  it  yielded  to  his  violent  exertions, 
its  unused  hinges  shrilly  protesting  every  inch  of 
the  way.  When  he  had  swung  it  sufficiently  wide 
to  admit  the  passage  of  his  body,  he  was  con- 
fronted by  the  flare  of  a  single  candle.  Even 
this  faint  light,  upon  emerging  from  such  dense 
darkness,  completely  dazzled  his  blinking  eyes, 
rendering  them  momentarily  sightless. 

"Well,  .  .  .  by  the  rood!"  the  most  welcome 
of  voices  then  rang  in  his  ears.  "I  was  looking 
to  see  a  grisly  phantom  shape  come  gliding 
through  yon  creaking  door  to  devour  me!  And 

237 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

certes  'tis  your  own  good  self,  Sir  Dick,  .  .  . 
eh?  Give  you  a  very  good-morrow,  ...  or 
a  very  good-even.  ...  I'  faith,  I  know  not 
down  here  the  hours  of  the  passing  day.  Every- 
thing, as  't  were,  being  of  a  similar  color.  But 
fillip  me  for  a  fat  toad,  an  you're  not  a  most 
pleasing  apparition,  Sir  Dick;  ...  a  most 
welcome  ghost,  .  .  .  eh!" 

Sir  Richard  strode  forward  and  took  de  Clav- 
erlok's  hand  in  a  firm  grip. 

"I'll  wager,  my  boy,"  said  the  grizzled  knight 
with  his  usual  hearty  laugh,  "that  you've  fair 
turned  this  castle  upside  down  in  your  endeavors 
to  unearth  me,  .  .  .  eh?  But  for  long  have  I 
been  conducting  a  quiet  truce  with  Heaven, 
where,  Sir  Dick,  I  fancied  that  you  had  some 
days  since  preceded  me.  How  comes  it  that 
you're  still  alive,  and  looking  as  hearty,  by  my 
faith,  as  a  prancing  yearling.  Did  you  deliver 
the  paper,  .  .  .  eh?" 

"Certes  did  I  deliver  it,"  replied  Sir  Richard. 
"And  let  us  for  all  time,  my  friend,  drop  the  sub- 
ject of  King  Henry's  message  between  us.  You 
can  see  that  you  have  been  led  into  a  sad  error 
as  to  its  contents.  I  am  now  biding  in  Yewe  as 

238 


OF   THE   GRIFFINS'   HEADS 

Douglas's  guest  till  the  business  of  my  sovereign 
be  completed." 

"Guest,  Sir  Dick?  God's  sake!"  blurted  out 
de  Claverlok.  "An  you're  not  as  much  prisoner 
as  I,  though  in  somewhat  of  a  better  case,  I'll 
barter  my  knighthood  for  a  battered  farthing, 
...  eh!  Tell  me,  has  nothing  untoward  hap- 
pened during  your  stay?"  he  added,  earnestly. 
"Sit  you  down  upon  the  feathery  side  of  this 
stone  and  tell  me  your  story — 'tis  the  best  seat  I 
have  to  offer,  Sir  Dick." 

"Well,  beyond  the  duels,"  Sir  Richard  rather 
reluctantly  admitted,  seating  himself  beside  the 
grizzled  knight  upon  the  stone,  "there  has  been 
nothing  unusual  to  mar  a  most  pleasant  visit, 
saving,  of  course,  your  own  disappearance  from 
my  side,"  he  hastened  to  add.  "I  bethought  me 
though  that  you  had  long  since  fared  southward 
to  join  your  company." 

"What — and  leave  you,  Sir  Dick?  Not  any! 
My  knightly  vow  fetters  me  fast  to  your  side. 
But  when  did  you  find  out  that  I  was  still  here, 

eh?" 

•    .    .    tii . 

"Only  this  morning.  It  was  through  a  most 
fortunate  train  of  accidents  that  I  have  stumbled 

239 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

upon  your  cell.  I  have  been  guilty  of  an  un- 
pardonable sin  in  thus  long  neglecting  you,  my 
friend." 

"Nay — not  so,  Sir  Dick.  Am  I  not  old  enough 
to  care  for  myself,  .  .  .  eh?  But  how  about 
these  duels?  I  would  hear  you  tell  of  them." 

"I  will,  de  Claverlok,"  agreed  Sir  Richard, 
"and  a  certain  matter  besides  that  I  have  guarded 
even  from  your  knowledge.  'Tis  of  a  cutting  of 
cloth  that  I  got  me  in  the  Red  Tavern."  Where- 
upon he  proceeded  to  tell,  much  to  the  grizzled 
knight's  amusement,  the  tale  of  the  piece  of  saf- 
fron velvet.  "And  about  the  duels,"  the  young 
knight  concluded,  "I  am  somewhat  puzzled  to 
know  why  they  have  been  brought  about. 
Though  I  believe  that  it  is  because  of  the  many 
favors  that  Lady  Douglas  continues  ever  to 
shower  upon  me.  She  is,  in  truth,  a  wonderful 
woman,  my  friend — and  well  worth  fighting  for. 
A  wonderful  woman!" 

"Ah!"  laughed  the  grizzled  knight.  "When 
love  enters,  wits  leave,  ...  eh?  But  explain 
more  in  detail  the  circumstance  of  these  duels. 
'Tis  this  that  interests  me,  Sir  Dick." 

"Oh!  'tis  a  small  enough  matter  at  best,  de 
240 


OF    THE    GRIFFINS'    HEADS 

Claverlok,"  protested  Sir  Richard  with  a  modest 
carelessness.  "But  ever  since  my  tarry  within 
these  walls  I  have  had  always  to  keep  my  sword 
to  the  grit-wheel.  What  with  the  spilling  of  the 
wine  over  the  table,  and  the  rough  jostling  of 
them  against  me  through  the  halls  and  galleries, 
it  has  been  'Come  out  with  me,  sirrah,  into  the 
castle  yard,'  from  gray  morning  to  twilight  even- 
tide. There  was  hazard  of  breaking  old  fox  here 
on  the  tough  Scot's  head  of  'em.  And  I  swear 
to  you,  my  good  friend,  that  my  right  arm  has 
been  kept  full  sore  with  the  swinging  of  it  against 
their  flinty  noddles." 

"Pricked  you  them  sore  or  easy,  Sir  Dick? 
Marry,  but  you  must  have  a-many  an  enemy  in 
Yewe,  .  .  .  eh?" 

"Well,  I  gave  it  them  as  easy  as  might  be," 
replied  Sir  Richard,  "and  it  perplexes  me  much 
to  observe  that  each  of  them  is  now  my  friend. 
Never  had  I  divined,  de  Claverlok,  that  there 
could  transpire  such  a  round  of  mysterious 
events.  My  brain  has  been  fair  addled  ever  since 
my  coming  into  Scotland." 

"Fret  not,  Sir  Dick,"  said  de  Claverlok  en- 
couragingly, "these  mysteries  will  clear  away 

241 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

soon  enough.  But  you  had  better  betake  your- 
self now  whence  you  came.  'Twill  eftsoons  be 
time  for  them  to  bring  me  my  bread  and  sour 
tipple.  Ug-gh!  Such  food  as  I've  been  bestow- 
ing within  my  belly,  Sir  Dick.  'Tis  unfit  for 
swine,  .  .  .  eh !  But,  get  you  gone,  boy,  and 
deliver  me  from  this  dank  hole  when  you  can  do 
it  in  safety  to  yourself.  There  must  be  two 
passageways  hither,  as  yon  door  through  which 
you  came  has  not  before  been  used.  'Tis  through 
this  other  that  they  bear  me  food.  Good-bye  and 
good  luck  to  you,  Sir  Dick." 

Upon  the  grizzled  knight's  reaffirmation  of  his 
assurances  that  he  would  possess  himself  in  pa- 
tience till  Sir  Richard  could  hit  upon  a  safe  means 
of  bringing  him  again  into  the  daylight  of  free- 
dom, and  his  belief  that  his  young  friend  was  as 
much  a  prisoner  as  was  he,  the  young  knight 
parted  from  him,  secure  in  the  belief  that  no 
harm  could  befall  the  veteran  till  the  return  of 
Douglas,  before  which  time,  he  swore  to  himself, 
he  would  contrive  to  have  him  free. 

Once  Sir  Richard  had  emerged  into  the  upper 
and  outer  gallery  he  made  everything  secure,  ob- 
serving the  precaution  of  counting  the  number  of 

242 


OF    THE    GRIFFINS'    HEADS 

griffins'  heads  intervening  between  the  sliding 
panel  and  the  door,  whereupon  he  hurried  down 
to  the  inner  bailey  and  commanded  an  equerry  to 
saddle  and  bring  him  his  stallion. 

"God!"  the  hostler  exclaimed,  reddening  to  the 
line  of  his  stubby  hair,  "an'  'a  canna  do  such  for 
'e,  Sir  Richard.  Snip,  snap!  would  'a  head  go 
.  .  .  here,"  touching  his  neck,  "an'  'a  did.  'Tis 
the  lord's  orders,  worshipful  knight,  .  .  .  the 
lord's  orders.  Anything  else  would  'a  do  for  'e, 
sir  knight.  God  wot,  an'  'a " 

Sir  Richard  did  not  wait  to  hear  the  conclusion 
of  the  hostler's  apologies,  but  tossed  him  a  coin 
and  took  his  way  back  into  the  castle.  De  Clav- 
erlok  had  been  right,  after  all.  The  young 
knight  was,  like  his  friend,  a  prisoner  in  Yewe. 

Without  stopping  to  plan  out  a  wise  course  of 
action,  he  rushed  straightway  into  the  presence 
of  Lady  Anna  and  impetuously  claimed  his  right 
to  know  the  reason  for  his  forcible  detention. 

"How  doth  the  moth  flutter,"  said  she,  laugh- 
ing gaily,  "when  the  glittering,  golden  home  doth 
suddenly  become  a  cage!  Marry — marry!"  she 
added,  changing  her  tone,  and  bestowing  upon 
Sir  Richard  the  most  languishing  of  glances, 

243 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

"are  you  tired  of  my  company,  dear  Richard?" 
she  asked. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  the  picture  of  the  fair- 
haired  youth  impressed  indelibly  upon  the  young 
knight's  mind,  she  would  doubtless  soon  have  won 
him  over  to  her  again.  As  it  was,  however— 

'Tis  not  that,  Lady  Anna,"  he  answered 
firmly;  "but  I  am  dooms  weary  of  playing  the 
wooden  pawn  upon  the  squared  board — with  no 
kind  of  conception  of  where  or  why  I  am  being 
moved  this  and  that  way  about!  Yea — or  even 
the  kind  of  game  in  which  I  am  playing  such  a 
stupid  and  involuntary  part." 

"Say  not  thus,  Sir  Richard,"  Lady  Anna  mur- 
mured softly,  laying  her  warm  hand  upon  his. 
"Tell  me,  I  pray  you,  and  what  becomes  of  the 
pawn  after  it  be  advanced  from  square  to  square 
above  the  breadth  of  the  board  to  the  farther 
rank?  Tell  me,  what  becomes  of  it,  I  say?" 

"But  scant  knowledge  have  I  of  the  game  of 
chess,"  Sir  Richard  grumbled.  "I'  faith,  madam, 
I  neither  know  nor  care." 

"Ah!  But  you  should  both  know  and  care, 
dear  friend,"  Lady  Anna  pursued.  "Let  me  tell 
you  then  that  it  gains  power  according  to  the  wish 

244 


OF   THE    GRIFFINS'    HEADS 

of  the  mind  that  picked  out  its  zig-rag  course. 
Even  it  may  become  a  royal  piece,  Richard. 
Have  patience  yet  a  little  while,  .  .  .  but  have 
patience.  Worse  predicaments  there  are  than 
that  of  playing  the  moving  pawn,  I  give  you  war- 
rant." 

So  far  as  any  definite  understanding  of  his 
position  was  concerned,  this  was  the  beginning 
and  the  end  of  everything  he  was  able  to  achieve 
through  Lady  Anna.  He  tried  his  bravest  be- 
fore leaving  her  to  impress  upon  her  the  idea  that 
he  was  willing  to  reconcile  himself  with  the  cir- 
cumstances of  his  surroundings.  Indeed,  he  en- 
tertained something  of  a  shrewd  suspicion  that 
this  was  not  far  from  true.  His  position  cer- 
tainly partook  of  a  most  fascinating  admixture 
of  unreality  and  romance  that  came  near  to  cap- 
turing his  imaginative  fancy.  He  was  now  in- 
clined to  regard  the  entire  series  of  events  as 
something  in  the  nature  of  a  gay  lark,  to  which 
each  exciting  incident  was  contributing  its  sepa- 
rate thrill  of  enjoyment.  To  effect  the  release 
of  de  Claverlok  and  make  his  own  escape  would 
furnish  a  capital  finish  to  the  whole.  In  order  to 
carry  out  these  purposes  he  determined  in  the 

245 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

future  to  conduct  himself  with  the  utmost  cir- 
cumspection. "An  it  is  to  be  a  game,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "I'll  take  a  hand  in  the  playing  of  it 
myself." 

After  leaving  Lady  Anna  he  strolled  carelessly 
into  the  tilting-yard,  for  the  ostensible  purpose  of 
viewing  the  elaborate  preparations  for  the  ap- 
proaching tournament,  which  were  now  nearly 
completed.  He  made  a  mental  calculation  of  the 
height  of  the  eastern  tower,  which  was  the  one 
accessible  from  the  secret  passageway.  He  esti- 
mated it  roughly  to  be  nearly  one  hundred  and 
fifty  feet. 

A  line  over  the  battlements  would  be  the  only 
way  down.  It  would  be  manifestly  impossible 
to  carry  a  rope  of  that  length  through  the  halls 
and  galleries.  So  he  hit  upon  the  scheme  of  con- 
cealing lengths  of  it  beneath  his  cloak  and  splic- 
ing them  together  after  reaching  the  secret  exit. 
By  allowing  the  knotted  ends  to  dangle  down  the 
well  leading  to  de  Claverlok's  dungeon,  he  con- 
cluded that  they  would  be  safe  enough  from  dis- 
covery. 

He  accordingly  started  his  pilfering  expedi- 
tions on  the  next  morning  at  the  hour  when  Lady 

246 


OF   THE   GRIFFINS'   HEADS 

Anna  was  engaged  with  her  pupil.  Day  after 
day  Sir  Richard  kept  at  his  task,  and  always  he 
would  see  her  beside  the  boy,  at  the  same  hour 
and  in  the  same  attitude;  and  always  he  would 
steal  a  long  glance  within  the  room  as  he  crept 
cautiously  by.  Twice  during  this  time  he  lowered 
himself  down  the  ladder  to  visit  with  de  Claver- 
lok,  taking  with  him  a  flagon  of  wine  and  a  few 
dainties  from  the  Douglas's  table.  But  the  griz- 
zled knight  warned  him  to  discontinue  his  sub- 
terranean excursions,  as  there  was  danger  of  run- 
ning into  the  guard  regularly  administering  to  his 
needs. 

Following  out  the  veteran's  advice,  Sir  Rich- 
ard made,  after  that,  but  one  trip  in  the  day, 
carrying  each  time  something  like  ten  feet  of 
stout  hemp.  On  but  one  occasion  did  he  come 
near  to  being  discovered,  and  his  escape  was  then 
of  the  narrowest. 

While  he  was  in  the  ordinance  room  one  morn- 
ing he  was  startled  by  its  tubby  little  keeper  com- 
ing suddenly  upon  him  just  after  he  had  hidden 
a  rather  more  generous  length  of  rope  than  usual 
beneath  his  shoulder-cape.  Sir  Richard  made  out 
to  be  examining  one  of  the  brass  cannons. 

247 


THE   RED   TAVERN 

"That  are  a  bonnie  piece,  worshipful  knight," 
said  the  keeper  proudly.  "A  right  bonnie  piece, 
Sir  Richard.  She'll  a-come  you  through  a  two- 
foot  wall,  sir,  as  smooth  as  a  tup-ny  whistle-pipe." 
Here  he  paused,  scratching  his  bullet  head,  and 
taking  up  the  end  of  the  coil  of  rope  from  which 
Sir  Richard  had  cut  the  piece  inside  his  cape. 
:  'Tis  a  muckle  strange  thing  how  the  good  hemp 
do  vanish,"  he  pursued  in  a  puzzled  way,  "a 
muckle  strange  thing.  Once  'a  be  a-thinkin'  as 
what  every  rogue  in  the  castle  were  a-stealin'  o' 
rope's-ends  to  choken  their  knavish  throats.  But 
every  rag-tailed  son  of  'em  do  answer  to  the  daily 
roll.  Not  one  of  'em  be  a-missin' ;  not  one,  sir." 

"Mayhap  you'll  be  in  trouble  for  not  keeping 
a  closer  watch,"  observed  Sir  Richard.  "Here 
will  be  money  enough  to  buy  you  a  new  coil  the 
next  time  you  get  you  into  Bannockburn." 

It  was  on  the  morning  that  the  young  knight 
was  carrying  up  the  last  splicing  of  rope  but  one 
that  he  missed  Lady  Anna  from  her  accustomed 
place  beside  the  youth's  knee.  Hastily  knotting 
and  securing  the  rope  around  a  rung  of  the  iron 
ladder  he  hurried  back  along  the  passageway. 
Pausing  beside  the  youth's  room  he  again  looked 

248 


OF    THE    GRIFFINS'    HEADS 

through  the  window.  The  boy  was  still  alone,  and 
pacing  back  and  forth  across  the  room  in  that 
which  seemed  to  be  a  paroxysm  of  grief  and 
anger,  clenching  his  blue-veined  hands,  throwing 
pillows  madly  about  the  floor,  and  soliloquizing 
with  a  bitter  and  impassioned  vehemence.  Ex- 
periencing an  indescribable  sort  of  fascination, 
Sir  Richard  stopped  to  listen. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

OF  THE  RETURN  OF  LORD  DOUGLAS,  AND 
THE  COUNCIL  OF  JACKDAWS 

AH!  Woe  is  me — woe,  woe  is  me!"  the 
youth  was  crying  bitterly.  "To  think 
that  I  must  forget  my  home,  my  gener- 
ous father,  my  brothers,  and  my  dear,  kind  sister. 
That  I  must  deny  even  my  good  and  gentle 
mother  who  bore  me  into  the  world  and  suckled 
me  at  her  bosom !  And  here  am  I  giving  her  sor- 
row of  my  death  when  I  am  living !  Woe — woe ! 
Better — far,  far  better  that  my  final  act  should 
be  the  rescuing  of  one  truth  out  of  this  tissue  of 
black  and  damning  lies !  Aye — "  he  gasped,  glar- 
ing with  eyes  wide  distended  around  the  room — 
"an  the  means  were  but  at  hand,  I  could  do  it 
even  now!  But  how  I  tremble  when  I  but  think 
of  it.  ...  My  hand.  .  .  .  See  how  it  doth 
shake — palsied  with  horror  of  the  grisly  phan- 
tom! Even  now,"  he  whispered  hoarsely,  "I  can 

250 


THE    RETURN   OF  DOUGLAS 

see  them  bringing  in  the  winding  sheet.  Nay — 
nay,  I  dare  not!  Fear,  that  doth  withhold  my 
craven  arm,  doth  set  his  grinning  skull  at  every 
exit  and  bid  me  stay." 

Then,  throwing  himself  at  full  length  upon  the 
floor,  the  youth  resigned  himself  to  a  fit  of  tem- 
pestuous weeping. 

Overwhelmed  by  a  feeling  of  deepest  sym- 
pathy for  the  suifering  boy,  and  oblivious  to  all 
things  else — his  own  safety,  the  safety  of  de 
Claverlok — Sir  Richard  strode  back  along  the 
passageway,  unbarred  the  secret  door  leading 
into  the  youth's  apartments,  and  impetuously 
gave  himself  admittance  therein. 

In  another  moment  the  young  knight  was  be- 
side him,  and,  stooping,  touched  him  lightly  upon 
the  shoulder. 

"Ah!  Lady  Anna,  .  .  .  that  you  should 
see  me  thus,"  murmured  the  youth  without  lifting 
his  head  from  his  arms.  "They  said  to  me  that 
you  were  suffering  of  an  indisposition  and  would 
not  visit  here  to-day.  Can  you,  .  .  .  will  you 
grant  me  pardon?"  he  added,  sighing  deeply. 

"Fear  not,"  said  Sir  Richard  gently.  "I  am 
come  to  succor  thee,  good  youth." 

251 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

Softly  though  the  young  knight  had  spoken, 
at  the  first  sound  of  his  voice  the  youth  leapt  wild- 
eyed  to  his  feet.  Without  uttering  a  word,  and 
with  hands  outspread  before  his  face,  he  moved 
slowly  backward  against  the  wall. 

"I  pray  you,  be  not  afraid,  good  my  youth," 
said  Sir  Richard  reassuringly.  "I  can  show  you 
now  a  manner  of  gaining  freedom  from  your  un- 
happy imprisonment.  A  way  of  winning  back 
to  your  abandoned  home.  Come,  permit  me  to 
be  your  friend.  Let  hope  smooth  away  the  wrin- 
kles from  your  brow  and  suffuse  your  counte- 
nance with  somewhat  of  joy.  Escape  is  at  hand." 

"But  what  would  she  say?"  the  youth  whis- 
pered, looking  in  a  frightened  manner  toward 
the  door. 

"She  shall  not  know,"  Sir  Richard  promised. 

"Aye — but  thou  canst  keep  nothing  from  her. 
Nothing!  Even  she  can  read  the  heavens,  and 
divine  the  inner  workings  of  a  mind.  The  stars 
whisper  to  her  their  dark  secrets — the  stars!" 

"Nay,  prate  not  thus.  I  tell  you  the  way  is 
open.  This  very  night  you  may  be  free." 

"But  I — I  cannot  leave  her,  sir  knight.  I  love 
her.  Pity  me,  .  .  .  but  leave  me.  And  how 

252 


THE    RETURN    OF  DOUGLAS 

didst  thou  come  here?"  the  youth  suddenly  added. 
"Saving  Lady  Anna  and  the  serving-men,  thou 
art  the  very  first  to  enter  within  these  rooms." 

Upon  gaining  the  youth's  promise  to  observe 
an  inviolate  secrecy,  Sir  Richard  explained  the 
manner  of  his  coming.  When  he  had  made 
everything  clear,  the  boy  took  his  arm  and  led 
him  beside  a  desk  upon  which  were  scattered 
many  papers. 

"Knowest  thou  what  these  are,  sir  knight?"  the 
youth  inquired.  "They  are  messages  to  my  sim- 
ple home;  messages  to  my  sweet  mother;  mes- 
sages full  of  endearing  terms  and  deep  regrets ; 
messages  signed  with  mine  own  true  and  once 
honest  name,  Perkin  Warbeck ;  messages  which  I 
dare  never  send,  but  write  and  read;  and  read 
again,  gaining  a  sort  of  comfort  from  the  double 
task.  Why  must  I  forswear  my  good  name,  sir 
knight?  I  know  not.  Why  am  I  here?  I  know 
not — what  shall  become  of  me ;  I  care  not.  I  am 
but  a  shadow  encompassed  by  flitting  shades — a 
phantom  in  the  midst  of  phantoms,  moving  in  a 
fog  of  mystery.  Of  all,  there  is  but  the  one 
thing  potent — my  love  for  Lady  Anna.  And  yet 
— and  yet,  sir  knight,  I  fear  her.  I  must  re- 

253 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

main!  Go!  Leave  me,  I  entreat  of  thee,  for, 
by  thus  tarrying,  thou  art  but  fruitlessly  imperil- 
ing thy  life." 

Earnestly  though  Sir  Richard  tried,  he  was  un- 
able to  shake  the  youth's  determination  to  remain. 
With  much  of  pity  in  his  heart,  the  young  knight 
then  took  leave  of  him,  retraced  his  way  back 
through  the  secret  door  and  went  below.  Desir- 
ing to  take  advantage  of  Lady  Anna's  temporary 
retirement,  he  secured  the  final  cutting  of  rope, 
stole  again  into  the  hall  of  the  griffins'  heads,  and 
made  everything  ready  for  de  Claverlok's  escape 
and  his  own,  which  he  meant  should  be  brought 
off  that  night. 

It  was  lucky  for  him  that  he  did  so,  for,  upon 
that  same  afternoon,  about  sundown,  there  was 
heard  a  loud  blaring  of  trumpets  from  the  direc- 
tion of  the  wood.  Sir  Richard  at  once  hurried 
to  the  barbecan,  from  whence  he  had  a  view  of 
Douglas  and  his  company  as  they  came  marching 
up  the  slope. 

Among  their  number  he  noted  a  knight  who 
was  not  wearing  the  Douglas  colors.  An  oddly 
tall  and  lean  figure  of  a  man  he  was,  encased 
from  crown  to  toe  in  a  suit  of  black  armor.  An 

254 


THE    RETURN   OF  DOUGLAS 

ebon,  horse-hair  plume  floated  from  his  closed 
helmet,  of  the  same  somber  hue  were  his  mighty 
horse  and  trappings.  Sir  Richard  gathered  that 
he  was  not  a  prisoner,  for  he  was  riding  free. 

"Marry,  but  he  makes  him  a  fine  brave  show!" 
the  young  knight  mused  to  himself,  as  the  Doug- 
las's company  started  to  defile  across  the  lowered 
bridge. 

For  three  days  together  the  air  had  been  of  a 
bitter  coldness,  and  accordingly  there  followed  a 
great  scurrying  up  and  down  stairs,  so  that  fires 
might  be  set  to  blazing  in  every  chimney-place. 
The  first  inmate  of  the  castle  to  be  greeted  by 
Douglas  when  he  strode  within  the  great  hall  was 
Sir  Richard.  He  shook  his  hand  most  cordially, 
leading  him  to  the  canopied  seat  beneath  the 
farther  pillars,  inviting  him  to  bide  at  his  right 
hand,  and  engaging  him  in  conversation  for  quite 
an  hour. 

"So  the  lists  are  at  last  prepared,"  Lord  Doug- 
las said,  taking  up  the  subject  of  the  games, 
which  were  to  begin  on  the  next  day.  "And  we 
are  come  in  time.  'Twill  be  the  greatest  meeting 
in  all  Scotland,"  he  boastingly  declared,  twisting 
and  untwisting  the  wiry  hairs  of  his  beard.  "The 

255 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

greatest  and  bravest  in  all  Scotland.  My  hand 
on  't,  Richard — and  here's  hoping  you  come  off 
with  a  very  surfeit  of  prizes." 

Sir  Richard  was  careful  to  keep  well  within 
earshot  of  Douglas  till  the  hour  of  the  banquet. 
At  the  same  time  he  maintained  a  close  watch 
upon  the  actions  of  Lightsom.  He  meant  to 
brook  no  transformation  of  the  fool  from  his 
habitual  motley  to  the  black.  His  bells,  however, 
continued  all  the  evening  to  ring  out  a  merry 
tune  of  de  Claverlok's  freedom  from  immediate 
peril. 

Around  the  table  they  all  gathered  presently, 
with  every  one  seeming  to  be  in  the  happiest  of 
moods.  A  rare  good  fortune  had  evidently  at- 
tended the  affairs  of  the  lord  of  the  castle.  Few 
around  the  board  had  ever  seen  him  so  amiable 
and  gracious.  Apparently  recovered  of  her  ill- 
ness, Lady  Anna,  agreeable,  captivating,  beauti- 
ful as  any  of  the  maids  woven  in  arras  upon  the 
tapestries  behind  her,  beamed  engagingly  from 
her  accustomed  seat  beside  Lord  Douglas.  Sir 
Richard  remarked  the  absence  of  the  knight  in 
black  from  the  bright  scene  of  festivity,  which 
set  him  to  wondering  who  and  where  he  was. 

256 


THE    RETURN   OF   DOUGLAS 

"Well,  gentlemen,  we'll  to  the  council  room," 
commanded  Douglas  when  the  last  morsel  had 
been  eaten,  the  last  wassail  drunk.  He  arose 
then,  stalking  majestically  from  the  hall,  with 
the  flock  of  powdered  jackdaws  following  grave- 
ly at  his  spurred  and  jingling  heels. 

From  the  concluding  moment  of  the  feast  till 
the  time  when  he  found  his  way  within  the  pitch 
dark  gallery  of  the  griffins'  heads,  Sir  Richard 
moved  like  one  in  a  dream,  incidents  and  people 
seeming  to  float  around  him  in  a  filmy,  unreal 
sort  of  way.  He  was  in  a  fever  to  get  de  Clav- 
erlok  and  be  safely  launched  upon  his  journey. 
He  took  time,  however,  to  stop  on  his  way  to  the 
secret  exit  in  a  secluded  corner  of  one  of  the  gal- 
leries, where  he  withdrew  from  its  accustomed 
place  and  stole  a  look  at  the  piece  of  saffron  vel- 
vet. He  added  another  to  the  countless  kisses  he 
had  pressed  against  it,  and  once  again  renewed 
his  vow  of  unwavering  fidelity  to  the  cause  of  the 
imprisoned  maiden.  There  were  reasons  for  his 
self  accusations  of  inconstancy.  But  Sir  Rich- 
ard was  determined  upon  redeeming  himself  so 
soon  as  might  be  after  he  had  accomplished  his 
escape  from  Castle  Yewe. 

257 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

The  deep  tones  of  the  bell  on  the  watch-tower 
were  droning1  out  the  hour  of  midnight  when  the 
young  knight  crept  stealthily  within  the  gallery 
of  the  griffins'  heads.  Feeling  carefully  along 
the  wall,  he  counted  the  protruding  tongues,  slid 
open  the  panel,  and  stole  noiselessly  into  the  se- 
cret passageway.  Away  ahead  of  him  squares 
of  light,  shining  from  the  windows  of  the  council 
chamber,  splashed  fantastically  against  the  right 
wall.  Every  embrasure  opening  off  the  youth's 
room  was  cast  in  utter  darkness.  In  his  mind, 
Sir  Richard  could  picture  him  tossing  restlessly 
upon  a  sleepless  bed,  and  his  heart  rebuked  him 
for  leaving  him  there  to  fight  out  his  melancholy 
battle  alone.  "But  I,  too,"  the  young  knight 
thought,  recalling  the  boy's  sad,  parting  words, 
"am  but  a  phantom  in  the  midst  of  phantoms, 
moving  in  a  fog  of  mystery." 

In  spite  of  his  anxiety  to  have  done  with  the 
business  in  hand  and  be  away,  the  magnificent 
scene  within  the  great  council  hall  held  Sir  Rich- 
ard fascinated  in  front  of  the  first  window 
through  which  he  chanced  to  peer. 

In  massive  silver  sconces  round  about  the  walls 
hundreds  of  candles  were  alight.  Standing  upon 

258 


THE    RETURN    OF   DOUGLAS 

a  raised  dais,  Lord  Douglas  was  engaged  in  de- 
livering an  earnest  oration.  The  jackdaws 
around  the  table  marked  his  every  pause  with 
solemn  noddings.  Viewed  as  Sir  Richard  was 
viewing  it,  from  a  great  height  and  through  a 
pane  of  ruby  colored  glass,  it  all  appeared  gro- 
tesquely unreal,  weird,  and  f  airylike. 

Not  a  word  reached  to  where  he  was  standing, 
but  the  young  knight  divined  that  Douglas  must 
have  finished  speaking,  for  the  conclave  of  jack- 
daws arose,  and,  bowing,  remained  standing  be- 
side their  chairs.  Then,  upon  Douglas  waving 
his  sword,  two  pages  parted  the  draperies  from 
the  wide  entrance,  and  the  lean,  tall  figure  of  the 
knight  in  black  moved  in  a  deliberate  and  stately 
manner  down  the  steps. 

He  was  not  wearing  his  casque,  and  when  he 
had  drawn  within  the  full  glare  of  the  multitude 
of  lights  every  feature  of  his  elongated  visage 
was  set  vividly  before  Sir  Richard.  He  could 
not  repress  an  exclamation  of  amazement. 

He  recognized  him  to  be  the  mysterious  keeper 
of  the  Red  Tavern — Tyrrell. 

The  young  knight  was  not  aware  of  how  long 
he  remained  standing  beside  the  window,  with  his 

259 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

face  pressed  close  against  its  ruby  pane.  Though 
he  did  not  realize  it,  the  scene  then  being  enacted 
upon  the  mosaic  floor  far  beneath  him  was  one 
well  worth  pausing  to  witness.  It  was  the  as- 
sembling of  the  nucleus  of  a  wonderful  move- 
ment, the  deep,  still  center  of  a  wide  whirlpool 
of  elaborate  conspiracy  and  action.  From  those 
clear  brains  were  emanating  invisible  wires  and 
arms  of  steel,  which,  clutching  the  individual, 
thrust  him  mercilessly  and  inevitably  ahead  in  the 
vanguard  of  the  movement.  They  were  not 
human  down  there.  Each  of  them  was  but  a 
cold,  bloodless,  and  calculating  automaton. 
Lives,  to  them,  were  like  pinches  of  sand  upon 
blood-slippery  lists,  serving  but  to  give  purchase 
to  the  wheels  of  their  tireless  juggernaut. 

The  young  knight  watched  while  Douglas 
seemed  to  introduce  the  inn-keeper  to  the  assem- 
bled counselors.  Tyrrell's  voice  must  have  been 
uncommonly  resonant,  for  its  deep  tones  came 
faintly  to  the  ears  of  the  observer  at  the  window. 
It  recalled  to  him  the  night  of  the  burial  of  the 
hound  and  the  war  song.  The  grace  of  the 
speaker's  sweeping  gestures,  as  he  continued  his 
oration  to  the  men  around  the  table,  elicited  a 

260 


THE    RETURN    OF  DOUGLAS 

genuine  admiration  from  Sir  Richard.  He  kept 
close  to  the  window  till  Tyrrell  had  finished  and 
gone  from  the  hall. 

Though  the  young  knight  was  unable  to  link 
himself  or  his  future  with  the  council  below,  he 
was  sensible  of  a  vague  presentiment  of  a  some- 
thing portentous  to  his  welfare  that  seemed  to 
communicate  itself  to  him  through  the  walls  of 
the  chamber.  With  an  inward  sense  of  creeping 
fear  he  started  toward  the  end  of  the  passageway. 
He  noted  the  trembling  of  his  hand  as  he  laid 
hold  of  the  iron  rung  of  the  ladder  leading  down 
to  de  Claverlok's  dungeon.  He  was  afraid  of 
the  things  that  he  could  not  understand. 

It  was  therefore  with  a  deep  sense  of  fore- 
boding evil  that  he  lowered  himself  to  the  bottom 
of  the  deep  well  and  opened  the  door  of  the  griz- 
zled knight's  dungeon.  Upon  that  afternoon  Sir 
Richard  had  apprised  his  friend  of  his  coming, 
and,  saving  that  he  was  not  wearing  his  armor, 
de  Claverlok  was  all  prepared  and  waiting  for 
him. 

"Put  on  your  suit  of  mail,"  said  the  young 
knight  hurriedly.  "I'll  help  you  to  buckle  it 
fast." 

261 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

"Eh?  But  I'm  not  a  giant,  Sir  Dick,  that  can 
wade  through  the  moat  with  my  nose  above  the 
water.  Nor,  by  the  rood,  can  I  swim  it  with  a 
load  of  iron  upon  my  back!" 

"  'Tis  solid  frozen,"  Sir  Richard  said.  "We'll 
walk  boldly  over." 

"And  the  moon,    .    .    .    eh?" 

"There's  no  faint  hint  of  it,  de  Claverlok. 
Make  haste!  Things  have  I  seen  that  have  set 
me  all  of  a-tremble.  It  may  befall  that  our  ways 
must  perforce  diverge;  an  it  do,  I'll  meet  you  so 
soon  as  may  be  within  the  deserted  shepherd's 
Jiut;  .  .  .  remember,  my  friend." 

"Have  no  fear,  Sir  Dick.  We'll  not  be  sepa- 
rated. The  moat  frozen,  ...  no  moon,  .  .  . 
I  tell  you,  my  son,  that  a  good  fortune  is  smiling 
down  upon  our  little  adventure,  .  .  .  eh!" 

"Have  you  brought  everything  needful?"  Sir 
Richard  inquired,  when  the  grizzled  knight's  har- 
ness had  been  adjusted  and  they  were  starting 
upward. 

"Everything.  Not  even  a  regret  have  I  left 
within  the  damned  hole,  Sir  Dick!" 

As  they  climbed  past  the  floor  of  the  passage- 
way, Sir  Richard  took  note  of  the  fact  that  the 

262 


THE    RETURN   OF   DOUGLAS 

lights  within  the  council  hall  had  been  extin- 
guished. Two  spots  of  faint  illumination,  how- 
ever, were  now  shining  from  the  youth's  rooms. 
"Poor  boy,  he  cannot  sleep,"  the  young  knight 
thought,  and  passed  upward  into  the  yawning 
flue. 

For  days  he  had  been  pouring  oil  over  the 
hinges  and  padlocks  of  the  trap-door  at  the  top. 
The  bolts  yielded  noiselessly.  Having  made 
everything  free,  Sir  Richard  set  his  back  against 
the  planks  and  gave  a  mighty  heave.  There  fol- 
lowed upon  the  instant  a  startled  grunt  and  a 
voice  rumbled  strangely  above  the  door. 

"Hi,  Jock!"  it  called.  "Didst  mark  any  quak- 
ing of  the  castle  just  then?  No?  Well,  be 
damned  to  me,  an'  I  thought  to  mysel'  th'  whole 
moldy  tower  were  a-givin'  around  our  ears. 
Has't  a  nippie  o'  sack  in  thy  jerkin,  Jock?" 

Sir  Richard  divined  that  the  answer  to  the 
guard's  question  must  have  been  a  favorable  one, 
for  he  at  once  got  up  from  off  the  trap-door, 
after  which  he  could  hear  his  heavy  steps  dwin- 
dling in  the  distance  along  the  runway. 

'T would  agree  passing  well  with  the  good 
fellow's  health  to  drink  him  a  gallon  of  it,"  de 

263 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

Claverlok  whispered  as  he  stepped  out  into  the 
night  and  unsheathed  his  sword.  "God's  sake! 
Dreaming  of  a  quaking  earth  were  enough  to 
set  a  man  at  tipple,  .  .  .  eh?" 

To  knot  and  make  the  rope  secure  around  the 
crenelated  apex  of  the  tower  was  but  the  work 
of  a  moment. 

"Go!"  Sir  Richard  whispered.  "When  the 
rope  swings  free  I'll  be  after  you." 

Immediately  de  Claverlok's  grizzled  head  dis- 
appeared over  the  side  of  the  embattlements.  Sir 
Richard  looked  down,  watching  him  as  he  dimin- 
ished and  became  swallowed  up  in  the  surround- 
ing gloom.  He  kept  a  firm  grip  of  the  hilt  of 
his  blade  against  the  possibility  of  the  guard's 
inopportune  return. 

He  waited  till  he  thought  enough  time  had 
elapsed  for  de  Claverlok  to  have  set  his  foot  upon 
the  frozen  moat.  He  laid  his  hand  upon  the  rope. 
It  was  still  taut,  and  vibrating  with  the  war- 
rior's downward  scrambling. 

Then,  though  Sir  Richard  had  heard  no  sound, 
a  soft  arm  was  suddenly  entwined  about  his 
waist.  A  softer  voice  was  whispering  close  to  his 
ear. 

264 


THE    RETURN    OF  DOUGLAS 

"Shame  upon  you,  Dick,  to  requite  me  thus!" 
it  said.  "Are  you  indeed  upon  the  point  of  leav- 
ing me?" 

It  was  Lady  Anna.  Warm,  bewitching,  clad 
in  a  silken  robe,  all  open  at  the  throat,  and  loose 
and  light  and  clinging. 

"Yea,  Lady  Anna,  I  am  going.  Let  loose  of 
me,"  Sir  Richard  said. 

"But  Sir  Richard — Dick,  dear,  I — I  love  you. 
A  last  good-bye,  then,"  she  said,  twining  her 
arms  more  firmly  about  him.  "But  why  leave 
me?  I  tell  you  truly  there  an  hundred  reasons 
for  remaining  to  one  that  you  should  go.  Be- 
lieve me,  .  .  .  dear  Dick.  Stay  but  a  moment 
and  listen." 

"By  my  soul,  Lady  Anna,  unhand  me!  Much 
would  I  regret  to  tear  you  from  me  by  force," 
whispered  Sir  Richard  between  his  closed  teeth. 

"Then  .  .  .  your  lips,  first,  Dick,"  she 
pleaded. 

Her  two  round  arms  were  close  about  him  now. 
The  perfume  of  her  flowing  hair  was  in  his  nos- 
trils. The  breath  of  her  lips  was  against  his. 
Again  it  was  the  Woman  against  the  Man.  The 
Man  felt  that  heaven  and  earth  were  rushing  to- 

265 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

gether  in  a  glorious  combat.  The  primal  instinct 
conquered.  The  Woman  had  won. 

Followed  instantly  then  the  thud  of  a  some- 
thing falling  upon  the  ice-bound  moat.  The 
young  knight,  now  freed  from  Lady  Anna's  em- 
brace, groped  wildly  for  the  rope. 

It  was  gone ! 


CHAPTER   XVII 


A  DEEP  sense  of  guilt  caused  by  his  mo- 
mentary   surrender    to    Lady    Anna's 
blandishments  stirred  a  very  tempest  of 
remorse  within  Sir  Richard's  mind,  which  vented 
itself  in  a  torrent  of  bitter  words  directed  toward 
his  fair  seductress.    All  cold  and  calm  and  smil- 
ing she  listened  to  the  young  knight's  list  of 
accusations. 

"Fickle  boy!"  she  said  with  a  gay  laugh  when 
Sir  Richard  had  finished.  "Know  you  not  that  a 
late  repentance  is  like  the  wind  that  blows  above 
an  empty  sea?  But  let  me  tell  you,  Sir  Richard," 
she  added,  abandoning  the  tone  of  light  mockery 
in  which  she  had  first  spoken,  "that  events  are 
transpiring  right  well  for  you.  Have  but  a  mite 
of  patience.  .  .  .  Wait,  and  see,"  whereupon 
she  coolly  replaced  his  poniard  within  the  holder 

267 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

dangling  from  his  baldric,  reached  for  his  hand 
and  signified  her  desire  to  have  him  accompany 
her  below.  "  'Tis  a  right  bonnie  and  sharp  blade, 
that,"  she  said,  referring  to  the  poniard,  "and  did 
part  the  rope  full  smoothly.  But  come,  Sir  Rich- 
ard. Lord  Douglas  is  waiting  to  have  speech 
with  you." 

"By  the  mass,  Lady  Anna,  and  how  came  you 
upon  my  plans?"  Sir  Richard  sullenly  inquired 
when  they  were  come  at  length  into  the  gallery 
of  the  griffins'  heads. 

He  remarked  that  the  sliding  panel  had  been 
thrown  wide  open,  and  that  half  a  score  of  at- 
tendants bearing  flaring  rush-lights  were  await- 
ing their  mistress's  coming.  They  all  grinned 
within  their  beards  as  the  young  knight  passed 
before  them. 

Lady  Anna  looked  up  into  Sir  Richard's  eyes 
and  smiled  brightly. 

"Ah!  Sir  valiant  knight,"  she  returned, 
"much  have  you  yet  to  learn.  Never  should  you 
confide  a  secret  to  a  weak  and  lovelorn  boy.  Let 
me  explain:  Wishing  much  to  have  an  imme- 
diate audience  with  you,  my  lord  dispatched  a 
messenger  to  the  great  hall.  You  were  not  there. 

268 


OF   A   JOUST 

A  round  of  your  accustomed  abiding  places 
failed  to  discover  you.  Your  private  chamber 
was  searched,  but  without  result.  Entertaining 
somewhat  of  a  shrewd  suspicion  of  my  own, 
which  was  speedily  verified  by  our  fair-haired, 
youthful  friend,  I  sought  you  upon  the  tower, 
.  .  .  errant  boy!  The  rest  you  know." 

Sir  Richard  made  no  answering  comment.  His 
mind  was  taken  up  with  de  Claverlok.  He  was 
wondering  what  the  generous  warrior  would  be 
thinking  of  him.  With  no  more  than  a  curt 
good-night,  he  parted  from  Lady  Anna  at  the 
head  of  the  jutting  balcony. 

He  found  Lord  Douglas  awaiting  him  in  his 
own  chamber.  The  same  in  which  he  had  deliv- 
ered Henry's  warrant  less  than  a  month  ago. 
Douglas  received  him  with  a  gracious  cordiality, 
his  red  bewhiskered  face  all  of  a-wrinkle  with 
genial  smirks  and  smiles. 

"So,  so!  Sir  Richard,"  said  he,  rising  and  ex- 
tending the  young  knight  his  hairy  hand.  "You 
have  played  the  leech,  I  hear,  and  have  deliv- 
ered a  suffering  old  warrior  out  of  the  womb 
of  Castle  Yewe?  Well — well!"  pausing  to  roar 
with  laughter;  "I  looked  upon  the  fellow  as  your 

269 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

dire  enemy,  and  mewed  him  up  for  hurling 
treacherous  lance  at  you.  I  pray  you,  and  why 
did  you  not  affirm  that  he  was  indeed  your 
friend?" 

"Said  I  not  so  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  upon 
the  first  moment  of  my  arrival  here?" 

"Yea — that  you  did.  But  I  bethought  me  that 
you  were  but  reserving  him  for  your  own  ven- 
geance. Why — you  might  have  had  him  free 
for  the  snapping  of  your  fingers.  Marry— 
marry !  How  often  do  we  struggle  mightily  and 
in  secret  for  a  thing  that  we  might  gain  in  the 
open,  and  but  for  the  simple  asking." 

Deeds  that  to  Sir  Richard  appeared  valorous, 
and  partaking  somewhat  of  the  essence  of  that 
chivalry  which  he  strove  always  to  emulate,  were 
thus  dismissed  as  mere  boyish  escapades.  His 
embarrassment  and  chagrin  became  more  pro- 
found than  ever. 

"By  'r  lady!  An  I  could  but  borrow  the  ears 
of  an  ass,  I'd  be  armed  at  point  device,"  he  rue- 
fully declared. 

"Nay,  nay,  Sir  Richard,  say  not  thus,"  replied 
Douglas.  "An  all  the  asses'  ears  were  properly 
bestowed,  let  me  tell  you,  our  four-legged  friends 

270 


OF   A   JOUST 

would  every  one  be  bereft  of  those  useful  ap- 
pendages. Have  done,  my  young  friend,  with 
vain  repining.  Your  act  of  this  night  pleases 
me  passing  well.  Though,  an  you  had  left  us,  as 
you  came  perilously  near  doing,  you  would  have 
broken  your  knightly  word.  For,  in  the  games 
of  to-morrow,  did  you  not  agree  with  Mistress 
Douglas  to  break  a  lance  with  Bull  Bengough? 
But  enough  upon  that  subject.  Your  head  was 
all  awry  upon  your  shoulders.  You  were  not 
heedful  of  such  slight  obligations.  Mark  you 
well,  Sir  Richard,  I  wished  that  you  should  be 
brought  hither  so  that  I  might  tell  you  that,  upon 
to-morrow  night,  following  the  games,  there's  to 
be  a  conclave  held  within  the  council  hall.  You 
shall  be  present.  Something  then  shall  you  hear 
that  will  set  your  eyes  wide  open.  Some  things 
shall  you  know  that  will  put  you  in  a  better  case 
with  yourself  than  you  have  ever  been.  And 
then,  there  is  another  matter  of  which  I  wished 
to  speak,"  he  went  on,  lowering  his  voice  to  as 
soft  a  tone  as  he  was  able  to  command;  "  'tis  con- 
cerning the  bit  of  saffron  velvet.  You  have  kept 
that  from  me,  Sir  Richard,  but  Lady  Anna  has 
told  me  all.  What  would  you  say  now,  my 

271 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

friend,  an  I  told  you  that  I  had  dispatched  emis- 
saries to  fetch  the  maid  to  your  side?" 

"What  mean  you,  Lord  Douglas?  The  young 
lady  is  imprisoned,  and  her  jailor  is  even  this 
moment  within  Castle  Yewe." 

"How  know  you  that?" 

"I  saw  him  through  the  window  of  the  secret 
passageway." 

"Aye — true,  there  is  a  window,"  returned 
Douglas  in  a  tone  indicating  his  regret  that 
such  was  the  fact.  "And  did  you  hear  what  he 
said?" 

"Not  a  word  could  I  hear,"  Sir  Richard  openly 
confessed. 

Douglas  had  been  nervously  twisting  and  un- 
twisting his  beard.  Upon  hearing  the  young 
knight's  negative  reply  he  heaved  a  deep  sigh  of 
relief. 

'Twould  have  mattered  little,  an  you  had," 
he  said.  "Well — 'twas  Tyrrell  whom  you  saw. 
And  henceforward  our  issues  are  to  be  joined. 
At  the  meeting  to-morrow  you  shall  know  every- 
thing." 

"When  will  the  maid  arrive?  Through  what 
means  will  your  men  effect  her  freedom?  Does 

272 


OF   A   JOUST 

Tyrrell  know?"  was  Sir  Richard's  volley  of  ques- 
tions. 

"Nay — Tyrrell  does  not  know.  'Twas  at  the 
suggestion  of  your  good  friend,  the  Renegade 
Duke,  that  I  sent  for  her,  who  has  but  just  this 
eve  arrived  within  the  castle.  He  has  been  laid 
up  with  a  sickness.  But  give  you  a  good-night, 
Sir  Richard,  and  get  you  to  your  bed,"  Douglas 
concluded,  getting  up  to  pull  the  bell  cord  above 
his  chair  and  again  tendering  the  young  knight 
his  hand. 

Like  one  walking  in  a  dream,  Sir  Richard 
followed  the  smoking  rush-lights  of  the  two 
pages  who  were  awaiting  to  lead  him  to  his 
room.  For  the  third  time  the  words  of  the  un- 
happy youth,  Perkin  Warbeck,  were  recalled 
vividly  to  his  mind — "A  phantom  in  the  midst  of 
phantoms,  moving  in  a  fog  of  mystery." 

A  sound  body  overcame  an  uneasy  mind  and 
conscience,  however,  and  he  slept  peacefully 
through  the  fog,  with  nothing  more  alarming 
than  a  multitude  of  shadowy  de  Claverloks  to 
inhabit  his  dreams.  In  the  morning  he  was  awake 
betimes,  broke  his  fast,  and  then  wandered  out 

to  view  the  lists,  which  would  soon  resound  with 

273 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

the  huzzas  of  excited  spectators,  and  the  tumult 
of  friendly  striving. 

To  the  northward  of  the  walls  of  the  castle 
tents  were  thickly  dotted  over  the  hillsides,  the 
blue  smoke  of  their  fires  rising  high  into  the 
keen,  clear  air.  Horses  were  tethered  to  almost 
every  tree;  oxen  were  moving  about  over  the 
slopes,  grazing  the  frosty  grass.  In  the  open 
spaces  knots  of  men  and  women  were  gathered, 
eating,  drinking,  and  singing.  Snatches  of 
their  rude  songs  reached  to  the  young  knight's 
ears  as  he  stood  watching  the  interesting  spec- 
tacle. 

Within  the  space  reserved  for  the  uses  of  the 
knights  who  were  to  engage  in  the  games,  he 
noted  a  pavilion  bearing  his  cognizance  emblaz- 
oned above  its  entrance.  He  walked  across,  stop- 
ping in  front  of  it  to  look  up  along  the  decorated 
stand,  with  its  ribbon-twined  pillars,  its  mani- 
fold pennants,  its  blaze  of  multi-colored  banners 
all  snapping  and  fluttering  in  the  crisp  breeze. 
It  was  a  brave  sight,  and  sent  Sir  Richard's  blood 
tingling  through  his  veins.  He  grew  conscious 
of  a  keen  desire  to  feel  the  first  shock  of  the 
combat. 

274 


OF   A   JOUST 

By  now  other  knights  were  passing  beside  him, 
many  of  whom  were  not  strangers  to  Sir  Rich- 
ard's prowess  with  the  sword.  They  gave  him 
the  morning's  greeting  and  passed  within  their 
tents.  Heralds  and  pursuivants,  dressed  in  the 
brightest  and  gaudiest  of  liveries,  were  moving 
busily  about  the  tilting-yard,  engaged  upon  their 
tasks  of  observing  that  everything  was  in  cap-a- 
pie  order.  Presently  Lord  Douglas  and  his  reti- 
nue of  inseparable  jackdaws  entered  the  stand 
across  the  covered  bridge  that  gave  into  it  from 
the  castle.  They  moved  in  a  body  to  the  front 
and  bowed  in  concert,  wishing  him  a  row  of  sol- 
emn good-morrows.  Sir  Richard  grew  to  specu- 
lating as  to  what  was  taking  place  within  their 
teeming  brains.  He  wished  that  he  might  have 
lifted  their  coverings  for  a  moment  to  have  a 
peep  within. 

Upon  returning  their  ceremonious  salutations, 
he  parted  the  curtained  entrance  and  walked 
within  his  tent. 

No  sooner  was  he  come  inside  when  a  seam 
opened  to  the  right,  disclosing  a  hand  holding  a 
parchment  with  ribbons  dangling  from  its  great 
seal.  Sir  Richard  instantly  recognized  it  to  be 

275 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

the  document  that  had  been  stolen  from  his  wal- 
let. The  seam  gaped  wider  then,  and  Tyrrell's 
grim  visage  appeared  above  the  hand. 

"Hist!"  he  whispered  low.  "I  essayed  to  speak 
with  thee  last  night  within  thy  chamber,  but 
armed  guards  were  stationed  without  thy  door. 
Mark  ye  well  what  I  say,  Sir  Richard  Rohan,  for 
I  must  perforce  say  briefly.  Here  is  the  message 
from  Henry  to  Douglas,  which  I  took  from  thee 
on  the  night  thou  didst  tarry  within  the  Red 
Tavern.  Mighty  well  is  it  for  thee  that  it  was 
purloined,  .  .  .  else  thou  wouldst  not  have 
been  here  to-day.  But  another  of  similar  im- 
port is  likely  any  day  to  arrive  from  Kenilworth. 
Thou  art  in  direst  peril.  Read  it,  Sir  Richard. 
But  not  now.  .  .  .  After  I  have  gone.  .  .  . 
I  dare  not  long  remain.  Thy  life  and  mine  would 
pay  instant  forfeit  were  I  to  be  discovered  here. 
Hark  ye,  ...  closer !  That  red  striped  lance 
yonder  is  worm  eaten  to  the  core.  I  have  one  for 
myself  hewn  from  the  same  piece  of  wood. 
When  we  shall  be  called  opposite  in  the  lists, 
.  .  .  mark  ye,  now,  .  .  .  forget  not  to  couch 
that  stick  at  me.  It  will  shatter  to  the  hilt,  as 
will  mine  own.  At  our  next  meeting,  with  fair 

276 


OF   A   JOUST 

lances,  thou  shalt  have  the  northern  stand.  When 
the  trumpet  winds,  plunge  rowels  into  thy  steed's 
belly  and  charge  at  me.  But  do  not  engage  my 
shield  or  person.  Gallop  by  me  and  make 
straight  for  the  gate,  which  will  be  open  and 
packed  with  gaping  peasantry.  I  have  stationed 
there  two  score  of  brawy  men  and  true,  who  will 
part  a  way  for  thee.  Ride  on  through  and  make 
southward  along  the  Sauchieburn  Pass.  I  will 
execute  a  swift  demivolte  and  follow  closely  at 
thy  heels,  appearing  to  give  chase.  An,  per- 
chance, I  fail  of  getting  away  with  thee,  go  swift 
to  the  Red  Tavern  and  await  there  my  coming. 
Zenas  will  be  looking  out  for  thee.  An  I  come 
not,  .  .  .  well,  .  .  .  Lord  Kennedy  shall 
bear  thee  messages.  Hist!  At  thy  door  there. 
'Tis  the  man  I  have  bribed  to  sew  up  this  rent. 
Admit  him,  Sir  Richard,  and  give  thyself  to  the 
reading  of  the  warrant.  Adieu !" 

Tyrrell  thereupon  withdrew  his  head,  and  the 
man  went  about  mending  the  rent.  Sir  Richard 
seated  himself  upon  a  stool,  holding  the  unopened 
parchment.  Even  now  he  hesitated  before  read- 
ing its  contents,  believing  that  it  would  be  a  vio- 
lation of  King  Henry's  trust.  He  became  con- 

277 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

vinced,  finally,  that  it  was  a  duty  that  he  owed  to 
himself  to  do  so,  whereupon  he  unfolded  and  be- 
gan perusing  the  warrant.  Having  finished  read- 
ing, he  crumpled  the  paper  and  thrust  it  beneath 
his  breast-plate.  For  a  long  time  he  sat  motion- 
less, with  his  hands  knotted  together  upon  his 
knees. 

"This— this  from  Henry!"  he  thought. 
"Henry  whom  I  have  revered  and  loved  and 
called  companion  from  very  childhood!  This 
from  the  comrade  by  whose  side  I  fought  upon 
the  field  of  Bosworth!" 

A  something  there  was  went  out  of  the  young 
knight's  life  during  that  bitter  moment  which  he 
felt  that  nothing  could  ever  supplant. 

Beyond  a  certain  set  firmness  of  his  lips  that 
had  never  been  there  before,  however,  when  he 
stepped  outside  his  tent,  Sir  Richard  exhibited 
no  traces  of  the  fierce  battle  that  had  been  waged 
within  him.  He  took  the  seat  that  had  been  pro- 
vided for  him  in  front  of  his  pavilion,  and  ap- 
parently surrendered  himself  to  the  full  enjoy- 
ment of  the  games,  which,  by  now,  were  in  full 
swing.  He  even  stamped  his  feet,  clapped  to- 
gether his  hands,  and  "bravaed!"  with  as  unre- 

278 


OF   A   JOUST 

* 

strained  a  vociferance  as  the  most  boisterous  on- 
looker in  the  field. 

Beginning  next  the  stand,  Sir  Richard's  tent 
was  the  first.  Immediately  beside  it,  Tyrrell's 
had  been  pitched.  The  redoubtable  Bull  Ben- 
gough's,  who  did  not  put  in  his  appearance  till 
well  along  in  the  day,  was  set  beside  the  gate,  the 
final  one  of  the  row. 

The  young  knight  remarked  well  his  appear- 
ance as  he  shot  into  the  lists  to  meet  the  victor  of 
every  preceding  combat.  The  champion  up  to 
that  hour. 

His  horse  was  a  silver-gray  stallion,  broad 
hoofed,  with  fetlocks  sweeping  from  above  them 
to  the  ground.  In  the  matter  of  gigantic  pro- 
portions, the  warrior  bestriding  its  broad,  round 
back,  was  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  steed.  He 
was  harnessed  in  a  suit  of  highly  polished  steel 
armor,  fluted  and  damascened.  He  wore  his 
beaver  up,  and  the  features  displayed  within  the 
opening  of  his  casque  were  singularly  brutal. 
His  eyes  were  like  two  glittering  beads,  hard  and 
pitiless.  Above  them  his  black  brows  marked  an 
uninterrupted  and  nearly  straight  line  from  tem- 
ple to  temple. 

279 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

When  everything  was  ready  and  the  signal  had 
been  given,  Bull  Bengough  charged,  bellowing 
like  his  bovine  namesake,  upon  his  adversary.  By 
sheer  force  of  his  superior  weight  and  strength 
he  vanquished  his  antagonist.  Without  making 
the  slightest  show  of  acknowledgment  of  the  loud 
burst  of  acclamation  that  greeted  his  prowess,  he 
rode  on  to  the  southern  extremity  of  the  lists, 
where  he  drew  rein,  disdainfully  awaiting  the 
signal  to  have  at  his  next  opponent. 

With  the  customary  long  preamble,  the  heralds 
announced  Sir  Richard's  name.  Two  grooms  led 
his  stallion  to  the  front  of  his  pavilion.  Leaping 
lightly  into  his  saddle  the  young  knight  cantered 
his  horse  toward  his  allotted  station  in  the  field. 

His  name  was  called  through  many  pairs  of 
lips  as  he  passed  beneath  the  stand.  The  young 
knight  had  won  many  friends  and  fair  adherents 
during  his  stay  in  Castle  Yewe.  He  signified  his 
appreciation  of  their  good  wishes  by  reining  to 
a  halt  before  the  stand  and  bowing  gracefully  to 
the  spectators.  There  followed  a  renewed  burst 
of  applause  and  laughter  when  his  stallion  grave- 
ly bent  his  head,  as  though  in  a  similar  acknowl- 
edgment. It  was  a  pretty  trick,  and  one  that  Sir 

280 


OF   A   JOUST 

Richard  had  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  and  pa- 
tience to  teach. 

Now,  with  casques  tight  closed,  Bull  Bengough 
and  Sir  Richard  were  awaiting  the  signal  to 
charge.  There  was  a  sinking  of  many-colored 
scarves  beneath  a  sea  of  staring,  tense-drawn 
faces.  A  profound  silence  settled  over  all  the 
field. 

They  shot  away  together  at  the  first  note  of  the 
trumpeted  signal.  From  the  start  Sir  Richard 
couched  his  lance  at  Bull  Bengough's  helmet.  As 
well  might  he  have  attempted  to  overthrow  one 
of  the  Pyramids  of  Egypt,  as  to  have  essayed 
the  upsetting  of  his  burly  antagonist  through  en- 
gaging the  center  of  his  impregnable  shield.  On 
account  of  the  young  knight's  lesser  weight,  and 
the  superior  nimbleness  of  his  horse's  hoofs,  he 
met  Bengough  a  yard  or  more  beyond  the  center 
of  the  lists  and  well  within  his  own  territory. 

The  extreme  bulk  of  his  great  body  rendered 
the  impact  of  Bengough's  treelike  lance  against 
Sir  Richard's  shield  like  a  collision  with  a  moun- 
tain avalanche.  The  young  knight  felt  himself 
shaken  to  the  very  backbone.  If  the  wood  had 

held,  it  might  have  been  that  Bengough  would 

281 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

have  sustained  his  wide  reputation  by  sweeping 
his  antagonist  off  his  seat.  Luckily  for  the 
young  knight,  however,  it  shattered  to  the  grasp, 
and,  with  speed  but  slightly  diminished,  Sir  Rich- 
ard rode  on  through,  with  his  lance's  head  wredged 
fast  between  the  eye-slits  of  his  adversary's  helm. 

After  that  it  was  like  sliding  a  filled  hogshead 
backward  off  of  a  moving  platform.  Sir  Rich- 
ard fancied  that  he  was  sensible  of  a  trembling 
of  the  earth  when  Bull  Bengough  alighted  upon 
it. 

Thereupon,  amid  the  loud  huzzas  of  the  specta- 
tors, the  young  knight  rode  to  the  front  of  his 
pavilion  and  commanded  his  squire  to  bring  him 
the  red-striped  lance.  Tyrrell,  his  next  opponent, 
was  riding  slowly  northward  to  take  his  place 
there  at  the  end  of  the  lists. 

Compared  with  his  meeting  with  Bengough, 
Sir  Richard's  contact  with  the  knight  in  black 
was  almost  featherlike  in  its  softness.  Their 
lances,  couched  well  and  true,  both  shattered  to 
their  grasps. 

It  became  now  the  young  knight's  turn  to  take 
the  northern  stand  for  the  next  course.  He 
looked  southward  toward  the  open  gate.  It  was 

282 


OF   A   JOUST 

choked  with  humanity,  swaying  this  way  and  that 
in  wide,  serpentine  curves.  The  task  of  clearing 
an  open  space  there  had  already  begun. 

Upon  the  sound  of  the  trumpet's  blast  they 
made  for  the  meeting  place  in  the  lists.  But  the 
knight  in  black  was  not  for  a  moment  in  Sir 
Richard's  eye.  He  saw  but  the  gate,  and  within 
it  the  crowd  of  densely  packed  peasantry.  Be- 
yond opened  out  a  wide  sweep  of  sloping  downs, 
of  free  roadways,  and  welcome  forest  glades. 

He  had  a  fleeting  picture  as  he  flashed  beneath 
the  arched  gateway  of  a  line  of  determined,  stern- 
faced,  brawny  men  pushing  and  thrusting  as 
though  their  very  lives  depended  upon  it.  They 
contrived  to  clear  him  the  narrowest  of  avenues, 
which  closed  together  when  he  had  passed  through 
like  the  waters  of  a  riven  sea. 

Sir  Richard  stole  a  swift  look  above  his  shoul- 
der. Tyrrell,  moving  at  a  snail's  pace,  was  vainly 
endeavoring  to  free  himself  from  the  living  mass 
that  was  eddying  about  him.  Like  a  pair  of  long 
flails,  he  was  waving  his  arms  above  his  head,  and 
calling  down  the  wrath  of  Heaven  upon  his  late 
antagonist  for  not  halting.  In  the  present  case 
his  talents  as  an  actor  were  standing  him  in  good 

283 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

stead.  Behind  him  men  were  streaming  wildly 
from  the  stand.  Just  as  the  young  knight 
plunged  within  the  forest  shadows  he  heard  a 
bugle  wind  the  tucket-sonuance. 

Throwing  aside  the  now  useless  lance,  Sir  Rich- 
ard stretched  low  along  his  stallion's  neck  and 
sent  him  pounding  over  the  frozen  road  at  top 
speed. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

OF  SIR  RICHARD'S  MEETING  WITH  THE  FOOT- 
BOYS,  AND  HIS  RETURN  TO  THE  RED  TAVERN 

TO  gain  to  the  abandoned  shepherd's  hut 
and  rejoin  de  Claverlok  was  now  Sir 
Richard's  chief  concern.  As  to  what  his 
subsequent  course  of  action  should  be  he  could 
in  no  manner  determine.  He  meant,  after  rind- 
ing de  Claverlok,  to  journey  onward  toward  the 
Red  Tavern,  either  to  effect  the  imprisoned 
maiden's  release  when  he  reached  there,  or  to  win 
her  away  from  her  abductors  should  he  chance 
to  intercept  them  on  his  way.  In  carrying  for- 
ward this  enterprise  he  intended,  if  it  were  pos- 
sible, to  secure  the  grizzled  knight's  aid.  After 
that  (Sir  Richard  planned  it  all  out),  a  journey 
to  the  coast  for  the  three  of  them,  whence  they 
would  take  ship  for  France  and  push  forward  to 
Brittany  and  Duke  Francis's  court.  There  they 
might  tarry  for  awhile  till  he  had  secured  his 

285 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

patrimony — the  which  was  a  something  very 
vague  and  shadowy  to  the  young  knight — and 
then,  last  of  all,  the  great,  wide  world. 

Desiring  to  minimize  the  dangers  of  pursuit 
and  recapture,  he  took  the  first  road  leading  from 
the  main  highway,  which  chanced  to  be  one  wind- 
ing to  the  eastward.  After  about  an  hour  of 
hard  riding,  he  made  out  on  the  roadway,  some 
distance  ahead,  the  gray  figure  of  a  monk 
mounted  upon  a  long-eared  ass.  There  seemed  to 
be  something  quite  familiar  to  the  young  knight 
in  the  monk's  attitude — bent  far  forward,  with 
the  sharp  peak  of  his  cowl  alone  appearing  above 
his  narrow  shoulders. 

The  churchman  turned  to  give  Sir  Richard 
greeting  as  he  was  upon  the  point  of  galloping 
by.  It  was  Erasmus.  He  arched  his  brows  as 
though  surprised  at  thus  meeting  with  the  young 
knight. 

"Why,"  said  the  scholar,  as  Sir  Richard  slowed 
down  and  took  his  easy  pace,  "I  fancied  that  long 
ere  this  thou  hadst  joined  my  good  friend,  Bishop 
Kennedy.  We  made  a  vigorous  but  vain  search 
for  thee  after  that  ambuscade  among  the  Kilsyth 
Hills.  But  Lord  Kennedy  doubted  not  but  that 

286 


TO    THE   RED    TAVERN 

the  good  knight,  Sir  Lionel  de  Claverlok,  would 
soon  fetch  up  with  thee  and  bring  thee  back.  Ah ! 
my  friend,  this  fighting !  These  direful  conspira- 
cies! 'Tis  indeed  a  sad  thing  for  both  church 
and  populace  when  jealous  factions  do  thus  self- 
ishly bestir  themselves." 

For  quite  a  space  thereafter  they  rode  along 
together  in  silence. 

"Grant  me  pardon  for  my  seeming  imperti- 
nence," at  length  said  Erasmus;  "but  curious  am 
I  to  know  whence  thou  hast  come,  sir  knight?" 

"I  am  just  riding  from  Castle  Yewe,"  replied 
Sir  Richard. 

"So!"  exclaimed  the  scholar,  now  lifting  his 
brows  in  a  genuine  amazement.  "Methought, 
sir,  that  thou  wouldst  not  long  survive  a  visit 
there.  Ah!  But  mayhap  no  message  from 
Henry  was  delivered  to  Douglas  during  thy 
stay!" 

"Why — friend  Erasmus,"  said  Sir  Richard, 
"with  my  own  hand  did  I  deliver  it." 

"But " 

"Aye — I  know  full  well  what  you  would  say. 
The  original  was  stolen  from  me,  I  know.  In 
truth,  Erasmus,  every  mother's  son  in  broad  Scot- 

287 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

land  seems  to  know.  But  I  had  been  provided 
with  a  copy,  the  which  I  delivered  as  fast  as  my 
horse  could  bear  me  to  Yewe  after  my  escape 
upon  the  Kilsyth  Hills.  I  know  now  that  it  was 
a  warrant  upon  Douglas  for  my  undoing,  but  old 
fox  here  stood  bravely  beside  me,  and  I  am  riding 
beside  you  to  tell  the  tale.  I'  faith,  since  leaving 
Kenilworth,  Erasmus,  much  have  I  learned  of 
the  world's  merciless  cruelties." 

"Aye — well  mayst  thou  say  so,  sir  knight," 
agreed  the  scholar  in  a  sympathetic  tone.  "Listen 
—and  mark  well  what  I  have  to  say,"  Erasmus 
pursued.  "There  is  now,  and  right  here  in  Scot- 
land, a  great  conspiracy  upon  foot,  the  which 
doth  involve,  sir  knight,  a  throne,  and  in  which 
each  of  two  powerful  factions  is  striving  mightily 
to  gain  but  an  inch  of  advantage  above  the  other. 
Wouldst  listen  to  the  advice  of  something  of  a 
philosopher,  a  great  deal  of  thy  friend,  and  a 
close  student  of  this  question  of  politics?" 

"I  would  most  gladly  hear  it,"  declared  Sir 
Richard. 

"Then  leave  this  conspiracy-ridden  country  and 
embark  with  me  for  France.  A  right  puissant 
friend  thou  hast  in  old  Duke  Francis,  sir  knight." 

288 


TO    THE   RED    TAVERN 

The  scholar's  manner  was  openly  and  frankly 
sympathetic  and  friendly.  Sir  Richard  was  glad 
to  discover  one  in  whom  he  could  confide  and  in 
whom  he  could  repose  an  absolute  trust.  He  ac- 
cordingly set  out  to  make  Erasmus  acquainted 
with  the  story  of  his  pilgrimage  from  Kenil- 
worth  to  Yewe,  dwelling,  with  glowing  words, 
upon  the  incident  of  the  imprisoned  maid  and  the 
cutting  of  saffron  velvet.  He  gave  his  vow  to 
do  devoir  in  her  cause  as  his  reason  for  not  adopt- 
ing Erasmus's  advice  of  sailing  with  him  for 
France. 

'Tis  a  most  interesting  and  thrilling  tale," 
the  scholar  observed  when  the  young  knight  had 
finished  his  narrative.  "But  why  imperil  thy  life 
further  by  remaining  here  to  set  free  a  maid 
whom  thou  hast  never  seen?  A  patch  of  velvet 
is  a  dangerously  small  matter  from  which  to  build 
a  vision  of  purity  and  beauty." 

"An  man  wore  coat  of  mail  who  said  thus  to 
me,"  said  Sir  Richard  with  a  smile,  "he'd  have  my 
gauntlet  at  his  feet  upon  the  instant." 

"Nay,  nay,  my  good  sir  knight — thou  knowest 
well  that  I  am  speaking  friendlywise,"  said 

Erasmus.     "The  age  of  ostentatious  chivalry  is 

289 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

passing.  Anon  will  come  a  time  when  sane  deeds 
and  true  shall  take  the  place  of  those  of  bombast 
and  display.  I  am  speaking  from  my  heart  and 
for  thy  own  good,  sir  knight.  An  thou  wouldst 
consent  to  join  me,  I  should  be  most  happy." 

Sir  Richard  disavowed  any  intention  of  leaving 
Scotland  till  he  had  accomplished  his  self-im- 
posed mission.  But  he  was  thankful  to  have 
Erasmus  for  a  companion,  and  continued  to  ride 
with  him  till  they  came  into  the  town  of  Kirkin- 
tilloch,  where  they  halted  together  at  an  inn,  sup- 
ping there  and  making  merry  till  somewhat  later 
in  the  evening  than  Sir  Richard  had  intended  to 
stay.  During  supper  hour  they  had  out  their 
argument  upon  the  subject  of  the  waning  of 
chivalry.  That  is  to  say,  the  scholar  argued  and 
Sir  Richard  listened  and  denied.  After  that,  to 
prove  to  the  grave  student  that  chivalry  was  not 
in  its  decline,  the  young  knight  had  the  buxom 
serving-maid  sew  him  a  cord  to  the  patch  of  saf- 
fron velvet,  whereupon  he  fastened  it  above  his 
eye,  vowing  that  he  would  not  remove  it  till  its 
fair  owner  should  herself  part  the  string. 

About  the  hour  when  Sir  Richard  concluded 
that  he  could  possibly  remain  no  longer,  there  was 

290 


TO    THE   RED    TAVERN 

a  sharp  driving  of  sleet  against  the  tavern  win- 
dows. Appreciating  that  there  was  danger  of 
missing  his  way  in  the  darkness  and  storm,  and  a 
warm  and  comfortable  bed  appealing  more  pleas- 
antly to  his  imagination  than  a  night  ride  in  the 
cold,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  to  make  a  night 
of  it  and  remain. 

When  he  came  down  early  the  next  morning 
there  was  a  thin  scattering  of  snow  on  the  ground. 
Upon  nearing  the  tap-room,  after  instructing  the 
hostler  to  bring  around  his  horse,  he  heard  the 
sound  of  loud  talk  and  laughter.  He  observed 
the  precaution  of  peering  through  a  window  be- 
fore venturing  inside.  He  saw,  seated  about  a 
table  therein,  a  half  dozen  guards  from  Castle 
Yewe. 

Without  waiting  to  receive  the  inn-keeper's 
reckoning,  Sir  Richard  beat  a  precipitate  retreat 
toward  the  stables.  Ordering  his  stallion  made 
ready  upon  the  instant,  he  tossed  the  groom  a 
generous  handful  of  coins  and  made  off  at  a  rat- 
tling pace  through  the  dull  streets  of  the  little 
town. 

He  soon  drew  beyond  the  limits  of  Kirkintil- 
loch,  and  came  presently  to  a  road  that  he  f  an- 

291 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

cied  would  lead  him  somewhere  near  to  the  hut 
in  which  he  hoped  that  de  Claverlok  would  be 
awaiting1  his  coming.  His  search,  however,  was 
unfruitful  of  result.  All  day  he  rode,  describ- 
ing great  squares  and  detours.  Upon  many  oc- 
casions he  was  obliged  to  plunge  swiftly  into 
nearby  forests  in  order  to  avoid  bands  of  horse- 
men, which  seemed  to  be  scouring  the  country 
upon  every  hand.  He  dared  not  stop  at  another 
inn,  and  so  took  pot-luck  in  the  most  remote  farm 
cottages  and  herders'  huts  that  he  could  find. 
The  patch  upon  the  young  knight's  eye  proved 
to  be  a  source  of  infinite  amusement  to  the  pas- 
toral folk  with  whom  he  ate  and  drank. 

That  night  he  was  forced  to  seek  an  asylum 
within  the  dismal  walls  of  a  monastery,  where- 
upon he  became  the  unwilling  recipient  of  the 
good  prior's  gentle  harangue  upon  the  wicked- 
ness of  registering  licentious  and  worldly  vows. 
He  charged  upon  the  young  knight  to  seek  his 
Maker's  pardon,  and  remove  the  yellow  patch,  the 
which  Sir  Richard  quietly  listened  to  till  his  head 
nodded  sleepily  above  the  table.  The  good  father 
then  tendered  him  his  blessing  and  conducted  him 
to  a  pallet  of  straw  in  one  of  the  unoccupied  cells. 

292 


TO    THE   RED    TAVERN 

He  was  away  at  dawn  of  the  next  day  to  re- 
sume his  wanderings  above  the  moors  and  downs. 

When  occupying  the  hut  with  de  Claverlok  he 
had  been  so  intent  upon  delivering  Henry's  war- 
rant to  Douglas  that  he  had  not  troubled  himself 
to  register  surrounding  landmarks.  This, 
coupled  with  the  fact  that  he  was  now  obliged  to 
keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  straggling  guards  and 
searching  parties,  rendered  his  search  a  most  dif- 
ficult one.  Indeed,  though  much  regretting  to  do 
so,  he  was  forced  at  length  to  abandon  it,  con- 
cluding that  the  wiser  plan  would  be  to  strike  a 
straight  line  in  the  direction  of  the  Sauchieburn 
Pass.  Upon  once  reaching  there,  he  felt  con- 
fident that  he  could  easily  retrace  his  way  to  the 
abandoned  hut. 

It  was  near  the  hour  of  compline  when,  after 
having  ridden  a  considerable  distance  through  a 
forest  of  pines  and  hemlocks,  he  came  upon  a 
road  stretching  through  the  wood  at  a  right  angle 
to  the  rather  narrow  trail  that  he  had  been  fol- 
lowing. As  he  emerged  upon  this  highroad, 
which  he  instantly  knew  to  be  the  one  of  which 
he  had  been  in  search,  he  heard  a  sharp  noise  of 
crackling  and  breaking  twigs  to  his  left.  With 

293 


a  ready  hand  upon  his  bridle,  prepared,  if  need 
were,  to  wheel  and  bear  away,  he  glanced  in  the 
direction  whence  the  sound  had  come. 

Two  mounted  foot-boys,  wearing  the  Douglas 
colors,  were  upon  the  point  of  leading  a  third 
horse — which  was  caparisoned  for  a  lady's  riding 
—within  the  shadows  of  the  trees.  Seeking  him- 
self to  avoid  discovery,  Sir  Richard  was  not  in 
fear  of  those  in  a  similar  predicament. 

So — "What,  ho  there,  boys!"  he  shouted,  riding 
swiftly  down  upon  them;  "can  you  tell  me 
whether  this  is  the  Sauchieburn  Pass?" 

"Yea,  sir  knight,"  one  of  the  foot-boys  replied, 
halting  his  horse  along  the  border  of  the  road. 
"And  for  a-many  a  wearisome  hour,  sir  knight, 
have- 

"Sh-h-h!"  cautioned  the  other  from  the  bushes. 
"Remember,  Harold,  our  heads  will  surely  pay 
the  forfeit  of  an  indiscretion.  .  .  .  Yet,  .  .  . 
'tis  a  tiresome  business  to  be  held  here  for  none 
knows  how  long  in  a  dark  and  dreary 

"Oh  ho!"  the  first  then  interrupted  angrily, 
"and  who  is  't  now  that's  talking  to  the  ax?  Yet 
—an  she  would  but  come — we  might  return 

in " 

294 


TO    THE   RED    TAVERN 

"Ah  ha!"  wailed  the  second;  "now  you've  fin- 
ished the  whole  cursed  jobl  My  name's  not 
Thomas,  an  I  give  you  not  a  sound  buffeting 
for " 

"A  truce  to  your  quarreling,"  interrupted  Sir 
Richard.  "I  have  other  business,  my  boys,  be- 
sides putting  your  precious  heads  in  jeopardy. 
Come  ahead,  give  me  your  stories  after  a  more 
complete  and  less  disjoined  fashion.  By  my 
knightly  sword  no  harm  shall  befall  either  of  you 
because  of  the  telling — I  am  ready." 

'Tis  thus,  good  sir  knight,"  spoke  the  one 
whom  his  companion  had  called  Harold:  "Now 
three  days  gone  our  worshipful  master,  Lord 
Douglas,  ...  on  whom  may  God's  blessing 
rest,  .  .  .  commanded  us  to  trap  palfrey  for 
a  maid,  ride  upon  the  Sauchieburn  Pass  to  the 
southern  extremity  of  the  Forest  of  Lammermuir 
and  await  there  her  coming.  Upon  the  maiden 
joining  us  we  were  bade  to  conduct  her,  along 
unused  by-roads,  safely  back  to  Castle  Yewe. 
Full  two  days  have  we  waited  here,  sir  knight, 
with  nothing  better  to  sleep  in  o'  nights  but  a  thin 
tent  in  the  forest.  Every  hour  between  dawn  and 
darkness  we  but  stand  here  with  chattering  teeth, 

295 


THE   RED   TAVERN 

idly  shivering  and  watching,  without  warrant  to 
sally  forward  or  return.  Is  't  not,  thinkest  thou, 
a  sad  and  dismal  undertaking?" 

"That  it  is,  Harold,  my  boy,"  Sir  Richard 
heartily  agreed.  "An  you  but  give  me  pause  to 
consider,"  he  added,  "mayhap  I  may  find  out  a 
way  to  aid  you  in  your  adventure." 

Sir  Richard  had  known  at  once  for  whom  the 
boys  had  been  dispatched,  and  was  relieved  to 
discover  that  the  part  of  his  plan  relating  to  the 
imprisoned  maiden  was  turning  out  so  happily. 
He  was  puzzled  to  understand,  however,  why  the 
boys  had  been  stationed  at  such  a  great  distance 
from  the  Red  Tavern.  It  was  at  least  a  full  day's 
journey  from  that  part  of  the  forest  to  the  inn. 
It  occurred  to  him  that  Douglas  might  have  sent 
guards  ahead  of  the  foot-boys,  and  that  when  the 
maid  did  put  in  her  appearance,  it  would  be  in 
the  company  of  an  armed  band.  While  he  was 
trying  to  arrive  upon  the  wisest  course  of  action, 
fragmentary  whisperings  between  the  foot-boys 
were  carried  to  his  ears. 

"By  the  mass!"  one  of  them  was  saying,  "an 
it  were  not  for  the  patch  on  the  eye,  and  the  scrag 
o'  beard  on  the  chin,  I  would  take  my  oath  that 

296 


TO    THE   RED    TAVERN 

'tis  the  very  knight  who  overthrew  every  fighting 
Jack  in  Castle  Yewe.  Can'st  not  tell,  Thomas, 
by  the  sweep  o'  the  nose  o'  him,  and  the  sharp  eye 
— and  the  brow?" 

"Marry!  Mayhap,  and  'tis,"  the  other  said. 
"I  saw  him  but  the  once,  you  must  remember. 
'Twas  when  he  cut  him  down  the  mighty  Sanduf- 
ferin.  He  was  certes  a " 

"Hark  ye,  boys,"  Sir  Richard  broke  in  upon 
their  whispered  conversation;  "an  I  agree  to  yield 
you  somewhat  of  my  assistance,  will  you  take  oath 
with  raised  hands  not  to  make  mention  of  this 
meeting  to  thy  master?" 

Upon  such  easy  terms  they  both  seemed  de- 
lighted to  purchase  the  young  knight's  aid.  He 
thereupon  lined  them  along  the  road,  with  up- 
lifted hands,  and  caused  them  to  repeat  the  most 
solemn  oath  within  his  power  to  conjure  up.  In- 
structing them  to  await  his  return,  and  promis- 
ing to  do  his  best  to  bring  along  the  maiden,  he 
left  them  smiling  by  the  roadside  and  fared  on 
southward. 

Within  a  very  short  time  he  had  drawn  clear 
of  the  forest.  Looking  to  the  left,  he  noted  the 
spur  of  stunted  pines  sweeping  down  over  the 

297 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

moor.  Beyond  it  he  could  see  the  bleak  dunes  and 
the  promontory  upon  which  had  been  pitched  the 
pavilion  of  purple  and  black.  The  gray  mist 
rising  out  of  the  sea  made  an  appropriate  and  ef- 
fective background  for  it  all. 

His  mind  was  deeply  engaged  with  the  sub- 
ject of  his  quest,  when,  upon  rounding  a  rather 
lofty  brae,  he  came  suddenly  upon  the  Red  Tav- 
ern. Surprised  beyond  the  power  of  speech, 
thought,  or  action  he  reined  in  his  stallion.  For 
a  considerable  time  he  sat  motionless,  taking  in 
the  different  points  of  the  structure.  There  were 
left  no  doubts,  when  he  had  finished  with  his  ex- 
amination, but  that  it  was  the  same.  With  a  re- 
doubled intensity  of  imagery,  the  weird  tales  of 
the  haunted,  flying  tavern  came  trooping  back  to 
his  mind. 

How  under  the  heavens  the  inn  had  come  there 
he  made  no  attempt  to  fathom.  It  occurred  to 
him  at  first  that  it  must  have  been  standing  there 
all  along,  but  he  dismissed  this  thought  when  he 
had  noted  the  fact  that,  during  his  enforced 
march  with  Bishop  Kennedy's  company,  he  would 
have  been  obliged  to  pass  beside  its  door.  That 
it  was  indeed  there,  and  a  palpable  something  to 

298 


TO    THE   RED    TAVERN 

be  accounted  for,  however,  he  could  no  longer 
deny. 

"Well,"  Sir  Richard  at  length  concluded,  "I 
made  my  entrance  upon  this  mysterious  series  of 
mishaps  through  yon  sinister  door.  'Twould  be 
most  fitting  that  my  exit  from  them  should  be  by 
the  same  route." 

Whereupon,  like  a  man  in  a  trance,  he  rode  up, 
dismounted,  and  knocked  aloud  upon  the  red- 
daubed  planks. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

OF  THE  RESCUE   OF   THE  MAIDEN 

THERE  was  a  familiar  rattling  of  chains 
and  sliding  bolts.    The  door  swung  cau- 
tiously inward,  the  evil  face  of  Zenas  ap- 
pearing within  the  narrow  opening. 

"Ah!  The  puppet  again!"  he  exclaimed,  his 
baleful  eyes  glowering  down  upon  the  traveler. 
"And  where  hast  thou  left  Sir  James,  my  good 
brother?" 

"He  was  foiled  in  making  his  escape  with  me 
from  Castle  Yewe,"  explained  Sir  Richard. 
"Are  there  messages  awaiting  me  from  Bishop 
Kennedy?"  he  added. 

"Nay.  But  tarry  not  without,  sir  puppet 
knight.  The  sharp  wind  doth  penetrate  keenly  to 
my  twisted  bones.  Come  thou  inside,  .  .  .  I'll 
have  a  groom  to  bestow  thy  horse  for  the  night." 

"Get  you  out  of  the  cold  and  send  him  here. 
I  but  wish  the  animal  baited,  Zenas.  I'll  not 
tarry  the  night." 

300 


THE  RESCUE  OF  THE  MAIDEN 

In  a  few  minutes  the  hostler  appeared  from 
behind  the  tavern,  received  instructions  as  to  the 
care  of  the  horse,  and  relieved  the  young  knight 
of  the  reins;  Sir  Richard  then  opened  the  door 
and  stepped  inside. 

"Ah  ha!  with  a  golden  patch  upon  the  eye,  by 
my  faith!"  growled  the  hunchback  as  the  young 
knight  seated  himself  upon  the  high-backed  bench 
beside  the  chimney-place.  "Methinks,  sir  puppet 
knight,  that  I've  often  seen  that  self  same  color." 

Zenas  stationed  himself  with  his  back  to  the 
blaze,  where  he  stood,  rubbing  his  hands  together 
and  laughing  shrilly. 

"You  have  seen  it.  Certes  you  have  seen  it!" 
observed  Sir  Richard  quietly.  "Yea — Zenas,  and 
I  mean  to  bear  away  the  maiden  to  whom  it  once 
belonged,  I  give  you  true  warrant  upon  that." 

He  arose  as  he  spoke,  with  his  hand  resting 
menacingly  upon  the  hilt  of  his  sword. 

Without  a  word  Zenas  thereupon  clapped  to- 
gether his  hands ;  three  men,  armed  at  every  point, 
came  instantly  into  the  room.  Three  blades  were 
unsheathed,  flashing  in  the  firelight. 

"Not  so  fast,  puppet  knight;  ...  I  pray 
you,  not  so  fast,"  whispered  the  hunchback  with 

301 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

an  uncanny  leer  and  stretching  out  toward  Sir 
Richard  his  enormously  long  arms.  "Wilt  treat 
with  me  quietly  now,  or  shall  I  have  the  guards 
at  you  for  a  dangerous  interloper?  Say  the  word, 
sir  puppet  knight,  say  the  word,"  he  hissed  be- 
tween his  teeth.  "More  good  men  there  are 
where  these  came  from,  an  these  be  not  enough 
to  truss  thee  up  and  render  thee  harmless." 

"Send  the  men  away,"  said  Sir  Richard  sullen- 
ly. "I'll  treat  with  you." 

"Tell  me  then,"  resumed  Zenas,  when  the 
guards  had  betaken  themselves  at  his  command 
through  the  door,  "hast  ever  seen  this  maid  whom 
thou  art  thus  eager  to  rescue?" 

The  young  knight  pondered  deeply  before  com- 
mitting himself  to  an  answer.  It  would  be  ob- 
viously improper,  he  thought,  to  explain  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  cutting  of  velvet  had  come  into 
his  possession.  But  he  concluded  that  a  portion 
of  the  truth  would  answer  as  well  as  a  whole 
falsehood,  so 

"In  truth,  I  have  never  seen  the  maid,"  he  re- 
plied accordingly. 

"Well,  thou  shalt  see  her.  .  .  .  Yea — and 
thou  shalt  have  her!  Even  this  night,  .  .  . 

302 


THE  RESCUE  OF  THE  MAIDEN 

now,  .  .  .  an  it  be  thy  wish,  sir  puppet 
knight,"  said  Zenas,  apparently  in  a  transport  of 
glee.  "She  hath  been  fair  eating  her  heart  out 
to  be  gone.  But  mayhap  thou  wouldst  first  down 
a  flitch  of  bacon  and  a  tankard  or  so  of  stum? 
A  full  belly  for  a  hard  task,  I  tell  thee!  Belike 
'twould  embolden  thee  for  the  work  in  hand." 

"Nor  sup  nor  drink  will  I  taste  till  I  have  the 
maiden  beside  me,"  Sir  Richard  declared. 

"Wait,  .  .  .  I'll  fetch  her  to  thee,"  Zenas 
said,  and  thereupon  went  out  of  the  room,  mut- 
tering and  laughing. 

The  young  knight  could  hear  his  catlike  foot- 
falls, then,  go  limping  up  the  stairs.  Appre- 
hending upon  a  sudden  that  the  dwarf  might  be 
meditating  some  act  of  violence  or  harm,  Sir 
Richard  rushed  to  the  door  through  which  Zenas 
had  made  his  exit.  "Thy  life,  sir,  shall  answer 
for  her  safety,"  he  shouted  from  the  foot  of  the 
steps. 

"Fear  not,  Sir  Richard  Daredevil,"  the  hunch- 
back called  back  from  the  landing  above.  "Fear 
not,  I'll  bring  her  to  thee  all  safe  enough." 

Zenas's  undisguised  willingness  to  relinquish 
the  maiden  into  his  hands  was  very  puzzling  to 

303 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

Sir  Richard.  Though  this  perplexity  presently 
gave  way  to  a  sense  of  delightful  anticipation. 
At  last,  he  mused,  he  was  to  see  her;  to  hold  her 
hand ;  to  listen  to  the  sweet  accents  of  her  voice. 
He  could  not  control  himself  in  quiet,  and  went 
to  pacing  to  and  fro  across  the  floor  in  a  fever 
of  impatience. 

Above  stairs  a  scene  was  being  enacted  that, 
could  he  have  been  witness  to  it,  would  have 
proved  highly  interesting  to  the  young  knight. 
The  half-maniacal  hunchback  respected  and  ad- 
mired his  brother,  Sir  James ;  he  loved  his  broth- 
er's sweet  daughter,  Rocelia,  but  he  feared  and 
hated  Isabel,  whom  he  had  never  been  able  to 
intimidate  or  make  to  do  his  bidding.  The  maid 
was  indeed  possessed  of  a  breezy  temper,  and 
upon  many  an  occasion  the  hunchback  had  been 
made  to  feel  the  sting  of  her  words.  When  he 
had  discovered  that  she  was  secretly  preparing 
for  her  departure,  he  had  at  once  embraced  the 
opportunity  to  avenge  himself,  causing  her  to  be 
imprisoned  in  earnest.  He  had  overheard  her 
conversation  with  an  emissary  of  the  Renegade 
Duke,  during  which  Isabel  had  given  her  word 
that  she  would  come  to  Castle  Yewe  to  join  her 

304 


THE  RESCUE  OF  THE  MAIDEN 

champion.  Isabel  had  a  mind  of  her  own,  and  a 
keen  appreciation  of  the  welfare  of  number  one. 
She  was,  besides,  a  capital  conspiratress,  and  had 
availed  herself  of  every  chance  to  acquaint  herself 
with  the  true  character  and  title  of  the  one  whom 
she  had  chosen  for  her  champion.  When  she  had 
grown  familiar  with  Sir  Richard's  history,  she 
had  concluded  that  through  him  she  might  achieve 
deliverance  from  her  monotonous  life  under  the 
guardianship  of  her  uncle,  Sir  James,  and  at  the 
same  time  elevate  herself  to  a  higher  plane  within 
the  social  world,  which  were  her  chief  ambitions. 
She  had  not  been  acute  enough,  however,  to  be 
aware  that,  in  promising  to  go  to  Yewe,  she  was 
but  falling  into  a  trap  set  for  her  by  the  Rene- 
gade Duke.  She  still  believed  that  the  word  was 
from  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  by  which  title  she 
always  referred  to  Sir  Richard  within  her  mind. 
The  blaze  of  anger  with  which  Isabel  now 
greeted  Zenas's  advent  into  her  presence  sub- 
sided quickly  when  he  told  her  who  was  waiting 
to  see  her  below.  She  made  short  work  of  her 
preparations  to  depart,  promising  to  do  so  se- 
cretly, and  without  stopping  to  bid  her  cousin  or 
governess  a  farewell.  As  the  hunchback  was  pre- 
305 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

ceding  her  below  he  was  exulting  to  himself  over 
the  circumstance  that  was  to  rid  him  of  one  of 
whom  he  was  jealous  and  hated,  and  another 
whom  he  feared.  He  looked  upon  it  as  a  happy 
stroke  of  fortune  that  had  put  it  in  his  way  to 
send  them  off  together.  He  chuckled  aloud  as 
he  thought  of  how  cleverly  he  was  cheating  the 
young  knight. 

"I  am  yielding  him  the  wrong  maid,"  he  said 
to  himself;  "the  wrong  maid.  The  saffron  gown 
doth  belong  to  Rocelia,  by  my  faith !" 

It  seemed  an  age  to  Sir  Richard  before  he 
heard  again  the  hunchback's  tread  upon  the 
stairs.  Another  step  came  to  his  straining  ears, 
light  and  firm,  with  an  accompaniment  of  gently 
rustling  skirts. 

What  would  his  first  words  be  ?  And  what  her 
whispered  answer?  He  thought  of  the  saffron 
patch  above  his  eye  and  the  unkempt  growth  of 
beard  upon  his  chin.  For  but  two  minutes'  serv- 
ice, a  barber  might  have  earned  a  handful  of  rose 
nobles. 

Thereupon  the  door  swung  open.  Without 
any  apparent  hesitation  the  maid,  whom  the 
young  knight  had  always  pictured  as  shy  and 

306 


THE  RESCUE  OF  THE  MAIDEN 

prettily  diffident,  advanced  into  the  ring  of  fire- 
light. Like  an  abashed  boy,  he  hung  his  head  in 
an  utter  confusion.  If  a  fortune  had  been  laid 
at  his  feet  he  would  have  found  himself  power- 
less to  look  up  into  her  waiting  eyes.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  the  whole  world  should  be  pausing 
to  view  this  meeting.  Then  his  hands  were 
caught  within  the  grasp  of  soft  fingers.  "Rich- 
ard, .  .  .  my  faithful  champion,"  a  voice 
broke  low  upon  the  dead  silence. 

Sir  Richard  then  looked  up.  His  eyes  fell 
upon  a  pair  of  firm,  curved  lips,  a  row  of  dazzling 
white  teeth,  a  wonderful  quantity  of  raven-black 
hair,  shadowing  beautifully  marked  brows  and 
masterful,  deep-gray  eyes.  His  sight  was  too 
blurred  to  see  altogether  clearly,  but  he  knew  her 
to  be  comely  and  bewitching  withal. 

In  despite  of  this,  a  sort  of  vague  but  exquisite 
melancholy  fell  upon  his  highly  wrought  spirits. 
It  was  as  indefinable  as  a  fevered  dream,  but  it 
seemed  to  him  to  answer  to  the  name  of  disap- 
pointment. He  felt  that  he  would  have  been 
more  pleased  had  the  maid  displayed  in  her  man- 
ner less  of  assurance  and  more  of  timidity  and 
reserve. 

307 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

Isabel  began  by  busily  removing  the  patch 
from  Sir  Richard's  eye,  assuring  him  of  her  gen- 
uine appreciation  of  his  knightly  conduct  in  so 
long  having  worn  it.  He  did  not  tell  her  that  it 
had  been  there  but  a  day.  Then,  commanding 
Zenas  to  bring  food  and  wine,  which  he  did  with- 
out a  word  of  remonstrance,  she  set  the  table  and 
bade  Sir  Richard  to  eat.  When  the  hunchback 
went  out  of  the  room  he  told  her  of  his  meeting 
with  the  Douglas  foot-boys. 

"I  divined  that  they  were  waiting,"  Isabel  said. 
"But  Zenas  locked  and  barred  the  door  and  would 
not  suffer  me  to  come.  It  was  full  kind  of  you 
to  send  for  me,  Sir  Richard." 

"I?  But  'twas  not  I  who  sent  for  thee,  fair 
maid." 

"Not  you?  There  was  a  note  signed  with  your 
name." 

;  'Twas  written  by  Douglas,  or  the  Renegade 
Duke  then.  An  I  could,  I  would  have  sent  for 
thee,  though " 

"Isabel,  Sir  Richard;  .  .  .  call  me  Isabel. 
'Twas  then  but  a  trap  to  lure  me  within  the  power 
of  the  Duke.  Well — we'll  attend  to  him,  once 
we  come  to  Castle  Yewe,  Sir  Richard." 

308 


THE  RESCUE  OF  THE  MAIDEN 

"To  Castle  Yewe?  It  is  the  one  place  on  earth 
from  which  I  would  remain  away.  We'll  go  not 
to  Castle  Yewe,  Isabel,"  Sir  Richard  declared. 

"But  has  not  Douglas  a  plan  on  foot  to  set  you 
high  in  power?  And  has  not  my  uncle  gone  to 
him  to  effect  a  truce  and  a  combining  of  forces? 
In  truth,  Sir  Richard,  will  you  go  to  Yewe?" 
Isabel  insisted. 

"I  know  not  what  plans  they  may  have,"  said 
Sir  Richard.  "But,  an  there  be  such,  it  is  all  the 
more  reason  why  I  should  get  me  safely  away. 
I  am  come  to  detest  this  conspiracy  business." 

"Well — we'll  have  that  out  on  the  way,"  ob- 
served Isabel.  "Come,  let  us  be  upon  our  journey 
before  the  band  returns  to  thwart  our  going." 

They  accordingly  set  out  soon,  with  the  moon 
low  and  exceedingly  bright  upon  the  far  horizon. 
Zenas  had  improvised  a  kind  of  pillion  behind  the 
young  knight's  saddle,  and  upon  this  Isabel  took 
her  seat. 

"I  wish  thee  a  great  joy  of  thy  bargain,  sir 
puppet  knight!"  the  hunchback  shouted  shrilly 
after  them  as  they  started  off.  "And  believe 
me,"  he  added,  "I  am  well  and  truly  requited  for 
the  death  of  poor  Demon." 

309 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

"He  would  not  dare  to  say  thus,  an  I  were  but 
off  this  horse,"  declared  Isabel  angrily. 

Sir  Richard  could  not  divine  what  the  hunch- 
back had  meant  to  convey.  He,  therefore,  made 
no  reply,  but  looked  back  and  remarked  his  squat, 
bent  figure  standing  free  upon  the  nethermost 
point  of  the  brae  against  the  moonlit  sky.  He  re- 
minded the  young  knight  of  a  monstrous,  black, 
and  forbidding  spider. 

Not  till  they  had  reached  within  the  cavernous 
depths  of  the  forest  did  it  occur  to  Sir  Richard 
that  he  now  had  before  him  a  long  and  hazardous 
journey  to  the  coast,  with,  for  companion,  a 
maiden  whom  he  had  torn  from  the  care  of  her 
lawful  guardian.  But  he  had  pledged  his  knight- 
ly word,  and  apparently  there  was  nothing  now 
to  do  above  seeking  a  priest,  and  carrying  her 
with  him  as  Mistress  Rohan.  He  quarreled  and 
fell  out  with  himself  because  of  his  dearth  of  en- 
thusiasm over  the  project. 

"Richard,  dear?"  Isabel  interrupted  his 
thoughts,  "is  it  not  nearabouts  that  the  Douglas 
foot-boys  are  posted?" 

"Yea — in  a  glade  upon  our  right  hand.  About 
here,  I  fancy,"  Sir  Richard  answered. 

310 


THE  RESCUE  OF  THE  MAIDEN 

"Then  stop  instantly  and  summon  them  to  us.'* 

"Indeed,  nay!"  Sir  Richard  amazedly  ex- 
claimed. "I'm  not  again  for  running  my  head 
into  a  hornet's  nest,"  he  said,  by  way  of  borrow- 
ing de  Claverlok's  simile.  "But,"  an  inspiration 
dawning  upon  him,  "do  you  wish  to  leave  me  and 
go  on  to  Castle  Yewe?" 

"Without  you— Richard?" 

The  manner  of  her  reply  sent  a  cold  sweat  to 
oozing  at  his  every  pore.  He  felt  himself  caught 
fair. 

"Ho,  boys!"  Isabel  suddenly  shouted  aloud, 
clapping  her  hands.  "Draw  rein,  Richard,"  she 
commanded. 

"Well,  by  the  mass!"  the  young  knight  ex- 
claimed. But  he  drew  rein. 

There  was  a  great  noise  of  stumbling  horses, 
and  the  sharp  crackling  of  breaking  twigs,  as  the 
foot-boys  hurriedly  drew  toward  the  road. 
When  they  had  observed  the  young  knight's  com- 
panion, they  were  the  most  relieved  and  happy  of 
youths.  They  immediately  set  about  making  Isa- 
bel comfortable  upon  the  back  of  the  housed  pal- 
frey, after  which  the  march  was  begun,  with  the 
foot-boys  singing  merrily  on  before. 

311 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

Harold  rode  back  presently  to  announce  that 
he  knew  of  a  cave  something  less  than  a  league 
ahead  where  they  could  be  rendered  comfortable 
for  the  night.  Both  Thomas  and  he  would  do 
their  best,  the  youth  assured  Sir  Richard  in  ex- 
travagant terms,  to  have  them  a  fresh  hare,  a 
crisp  loaf  of  bread,  and  a  sufficiency  of  sweet 
goat's  milk  wherewith  to  break  their  fasts  in  the 
morning.  Already,  the  young  knight  thought, 
their  journey  was  beginning  to  assume  somewhat 
of  the  complexion  of  a  wedding  tour. 

They  then  directed  their  course  toward  the 
cave;  and  by  an  ingenious  arrangement  of  the 
tent,  which  Harold  and  Thomas  were  carrying 
with  them,  they  contrived  for  Isabel  a  comfort- 
able and  perfectly  secluded  chamber  within  its 
depths. 

While  the  foot-boys  were  engaged  in  building 
a  roaring  fire  just  outside  the  cavern's  broad 
mouth,  Isabel  sat  upon  a  boulder  and  engaged 
Sir  Richard  in  an  entertaining  and  animated  con- 
versation. It  was  the  first  opportunity  he  had 
enjoyed  since  their  meeting  of  having  a  quiet  look 
at  her.  As  she  talked,  the  young  knight  noted 
with  a  certain  satisfaction  the  ever-changing  ex- 

312 


THE  RESCUE  OF  THE  MAIDEN 

pression  of  her  fair  and  mobile  countenance  as 
the  filmy  veils  of  light  and  shadow  played  across 
it.  "Certes,"  he  yielded  to  himself,  "she  is  beau- 
tiful. But  'tis  beauty,  methinks,  of  a  rather  dan- 
gerous and  sirenlike  kind." 

iWhen  she  was  near  ready  to  retire  behind  the 
curtain  she  held  up  a  foot  abounding  in  dainty, 
graceful  curves. 

"Unfasten  me  my  boot,  sir  champion,"  she  said 
archly. 

They  were  alone,  the  foot-boys  having  disap- 
peared within  the  forest  to  gather  a  fresh  supply 
of  hemlock  twigs. 

"Give  thee  a  right  good-night,  Richard,"  said 
Isabel  sweetly,  when  the  boots  were  undone.  She 
was  becoming  of  a  ravishing  loveliness  in  the 
weird  light  of  the  flickering  fire. 

Sir  Richard  was  blind  to  everything  at  that  mo- 
ment, saving  his  companion's  captivating  grace. 

"Often  have  I  bethought  me  of  that  kiss  which 
you  sped  me  through  the  wall,"  said  he,  catching 
and  holding  her  hand.  "No  wall  is  there  here 
now  but  one  of  darkness,  .  .  .  and  we  are 
within." 

She  cast  him  one  bewitching  glance,  raising  her 
313 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

hand  to  his  waiting  lips.  "Not  till  we  are  come 
within  sight  of  Castle  Yewe,"  said  Isabel.  "Then, 
brave  champion  of  a  maiden  in  distress,  you  shall 
have  earned  it." 

Sir  Richard  realized  all  too  soon,  however,  that 
his  had  been  but  a  transitory  fascination.  The 
moment  that  Isabel  was  swallowed  within  the  cave 
he  felt  the  spell  leaving  him.  So  when  Harold 
and  Thomas  returned  with  their  burdens  of  fuel, 
he  told  them  in  a  purposely  lifted  voice  that  he 
would  help  them  to  gather  more.  He  laid  down 
the  law  before  the  meek  foot-boys  once  he  had 
enticed  them  beyond  earshot  of  the  cave.  They 
were  free  to  give  the  lady  safe  conduct  into  Yewe, 
Sir  Richard  told  them,  but  he  was  to  make  choice 
of  the  way.  A  signal  for  the  right,  one  for  the 
left,  and  another  to  indicate  straight  ahead  he 
gave  them.  Beside  every  forking  road  or  path 
they  were  instructed  to  seek  his  secret  and  per- 
emptory command. 

"Remember,  boys,  Sandufferin !"  he  added,  by 
way  of  a  parting  shot.  "And  have  a  care  that 
you  fall  not  foul  of  old  fox  here,"  he  concluded, 
tapping  the  hilt  of  his  sword. 

"Said  I  not  'twas  the  same  that  cut  him  down 
314 


THE  RESCUE  OF  THE  MAIDEN 

the  great  Sandufferin?"  Sir  Richard  heard  one 
of  the  foot-boys  whisper,  as  he  was  falling  into 
a  pleasant  forgetfulness  of  his  many  troubles 
beside  the  crackling  blaze. 

Agreeable  with  their  sworn  promises,  the 
faithful  foot-boys  contrived  to  set  before  Sir 
Richard  and  Isabel  an  appetizing  and  ample 
meal.  Somewhere  within  the  forest  they  had 
come  upon  a  spring,  and  had  filled  a  deep  hollow 
in  the  rocks  with  limpid  water.  Accordingly, 
when  Isabel  sat  down  to  breakfast,  she  was  look- 
ing as  fresh  and  sparkling  as  any  of  the  frost- 
covered  fir  trees  growing  round  about. 

All  of  that  day  they  pushed  steadily  forward, 
halting  but  once  to  sup  and  drink  within  a  herds- 
man's cottage.  When  the  evening  had  fallen 
they  were  among  the  upland  hills,  and  had  jour- 
neyed a  full  two  leagues  beyond  the  Back 
Friar's  Monastery. 

They  found  shelter  for  that  night  in  a  wayside 
peasant's  hut.  Here  Sir  Richard  enjoyed  a  long 
talk  with  Isabel,  sitting  alone  with  her  by  the 
chimney-side.  He  tried  to  win  from  her  an 
elucidation  of  the  mystery  of  the  moving  tavern, 

but  she  refused  to  gratify  his  curiosity.    When- 

315 


THE   RED   TAVERN 

ever  she  chanced  to  discover  that  Sir  Richard  de- 
sired particularly  a  certain  favor,  always  she 
would  say,  "Not  till  we  are  come  within  sight  of 
Castle  Yewe,  .  .  .  then  you  shall  have  earned 
it." 

She  was  leading  the  young1  knight  a  merry 
dance,  with  her  "Richard,  fetch  me  this,"  and 
"Richard,  dear,  fetch  me  that";  her  "Are  you 
certain  that  this  is  the  nearest  path  to  Castle 
Yewe?"  When  the  young  knight  would  grow 
sullen  and  demur  against  returning  there, 
"How  absurd  of  you,  my  brave  champion,"  Isa- 
bel would  say,  "to  set  yourself  against  those 
whose  only  desire  it  is  to  put  you  where  you  right- 
fully belong!" 

Scarcely  an  hour  passed  without  seeing  its 
quarrel  between  them,  which  inevitably  ended  by 
her  riding  close  alongside  her  companion,  taking 
his  hand  and  wheedling  him,  willy-nilly,  into  the 
best  of  good  humors.  Her  wonderful  eyes  dur- 
ing one  moment  would  be  flashing  cold  steel,  and 
in  the  next  would  radiate  the  warmth  and  glory 
of  a  tropic  sun.  Isabel  was,  indeed,  a  most  ex- 
traordinary young  woman. 

Within  his  mind  Sir  Richard  had  made  a  com- 
316 


THE  RESCUE  OF  THE  MAIDEN 

plete  surrender  to  her  continued  importunings. 
He  was  staking  his  last  hope  of  liberation  from 
his  uncomfortable,  and  that  which  he  considered 
dangerous,  position  upon  the  slight  chance  of 
finding  de  Claverlok  in  the  deserted  hut.  "An 
the  good  fellow  happens  not  to  be  there,"  he 
thought,  "why — I'll  fare  on  and  discover  me  the 
things  that  Lord  Douglas  has  in  waiting." 

Sir  Richard's  system  of  secret  signals  to  the 
foot-boys  worked  admirably,  and  quite  as  well 
as  he  could  wish.  By  giving  them  the  proper 
signs  he  was  enabled  to  follow  the  path  along 
which  the  Renegade  Duke  and  he  had  so  furi- 
ously ridden.  He  even  remarked  the  patch  of 
broken  gorse  and  brambles  that  plainly  marked 
his  fall. 

It  was  upon  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day  of 
their  journey  that  they  turned  into  the  sandy 
highway  where  the  young  knight  had  momenta- 
rily outwitted  his  pursuer.  He  recalled  to  his 
mind  the  image  of  de  Claverlok's  rugged,  honest 
face  set  fantastically  against  the  moon,  as  he 
had  seen  it  upon  that  memorable  night.  Sir 
Richard  was  obliged  to  confess  that  his  hope  of 
discovering  him  at  their  appointed  rendezvous 

317 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

was  sinking  in  proportion  with  the  nearness  of 
his  approach  thereto. 

At  length,  as  they  rode  free  of  the  forest 
through  which  a  part  of  the  road  lay,  he  made 
out  the  little  hut  standing  close  beside  a  down 
something  near  a  quarter  of  a  league  distant. 
There  was  a  monk,  on  foot,  moving  in  their  di- 
rection along  the  highway.  As  the  churchman 
drew  nearer,  Sir  Richard  noted  that  he  was  tally- 
ing his  string  of  black  beads  and  muttering  over 
his  open  breviary. 

Isabel,  just  then,  rode  close  to  his  saddle. 

"Richard,"  said  she,  "here  now  is  our  good 
priest." 

The  maiden  had  left  Sir  Richard  in  no  pos- 
sible doubt  of  her  meaning. 

A  thought  came  to  him,  though  it  was  not  a 
happy  one,  for  nothing,  now,  he  fancied,  could 
ever  more  be  happy.  Carrying  out  the  thought, 
however,  he  called  to  the  monk  to  halt  and  at- 
tend upon  his  words. 

"Canst  thou  go  with  us,  good  father,  into 
yonder  hut?"  he  said.  "We  would  have  thy 
service  at  a  simple  service  of  wedding.  See, 
.  .  .  my  witnesses  are  riding  hither,  .  .  . 

318 


THE  RESCUE  OF  THE  MAIDEN 

and  I  have  papers  bearing  upon  my  knightly 
reputation." 

"Right  willingly  would  I  do  thee  a  service,  sir 
knight,  but  not  in  that  hut  there,"  replied  the 
monk,  looking  up  at  his  questioner  with  eyes  dis- 
tended with  fear.  "I  am  but  now  come  from 
there,  .  .  .  the  good  Lord  forgive  him!" 

"Forgive  who?  What  is't,  goodman?"  cried 
Sir  Richard. 

"There  abides  a  great  giant  there.  .  .  .  In- 
deed, a  tremendous  man,  ...  ill  with  some 
diresome  fever,  or  fiendish  obsession.  He  made 
threat  to  slay  me,  an  I  but  dared  set  foot  within, 
bellowing  fierce  oaths  the  while  from  his  pallet 
of  rushes.  He  will  die ;  .  .  .  yea,  he  will  die, 
for  he  had  the  white  drawn  look  of  death  upon 
his  bearded  face.  I  shrove  him  from  the  door- 
way—  then  came  away.  The  Lord  have 
mercy " 

He  got  no  further  with  the  sentence  within 
Sir  Richard's  hearing.  Ignoring  the  road,  the 
young  knight  went  galloping  in  mighty  bounds 
away  over  the  gorse-grown  meadow. 


CHAPTER   XX 

OF  HOW  SIR   RICHARD   CAME    TO   THE   SHEP- 
HERD'S HUT,  AND  THE  RETURN  OF  TYRRELL 

IT  was  not  above  a  few  swift  winks  of  the 
eye  till  Sir  Richard  had  flung  himself  from 
off  the  back  of  his  frothing  stallion  and 
was  within  the  hut's  door. 

"Dick!"  exclaimed  its  solitary  occupant,  ris- 
ing upon  a  lean  elbow.  "I'm  damned,  an  it  be 
not  yourself,  .  .  .  eh?"  Then,  sternly,  as  the 
young  knight  made  toward  the  pallet  of  rushes 
whereupon  he  was  outstretched:  "Betake  you 
out  of  this  accursed  place,"  he  shouted.  "Do 
you  want  to  get  you  the  sweating  sickness?" 

"An  it  had  been  the  sweating  sickness,"  said 
Sir  Richard,  advancing  to  the  sick  warrior's  side 
and  grasping  his  woefully  thin  hand,  "I'd  have 
found  nothing  here  beyond  a  moldering  corpse. 
This  four  years,  de  Claverlok,  has  the  sweating 
sickness  slept.  'Tis  but  some  devastating  fever 
brought  with  you  from  out  of  the  dungeon  in 

320 


THE   RETURN    OF    TYRRELL 

Castle  Yewe.    You'll  get  you  well,  man,  I  know 
it." 

"Meseems  I  know  it,  too,  Sir  Dick,"  agreed 
the  grizzled  warrior  weakly.  "By  the  mass,  'tis 
the  very  first  day  I've  had  the  courage  to  swear, 
.  .  .eh!  And  a  good  monk  for  auditor,  too. 
The  Christian  fellow  shrove  me  through  yon  open 
door.  A  murrain  upon  you,  Dick !  and  how  is  't 
you're  here?  And  after  cutting  me  some  ten 
stone  of  stout  rope  in  my  eye,  .  .  .  Ingrate !" 

After  this  good-natured  outburst  de  Claver- 
lok  threw  himself  back  upon  the  rush-mat, 
breathing  heavily.  Noting  that  his  pallor  had 
somewhat  increased,  Sir  Richard  begged  him  to 
remain  quiet,  the  while  he  would  recount  his  ad- 
ventures since  parting  from  him  upon  the  run- 
way of  the  tower.  "God's  sake!  but  there's  a 
woman  for  you,  ...  a  king-maker,  Dick," 
he  made  a  muttered  comment,  when  the  young 
knight  gave  him  the  story  of  Lady  Anna.  He 
went  on  with  his  tale,  and  had  just  come  to  that 
part  of  it  where  he  had  stumbled  so  unexpectedly 
upon  the  Red  Tavern,  when 

"Richard!"  a  firm  and  musical  voice  called 
from  outside;  and  then  again,  "Richard I" 

321 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

"Wait.  'Tis  the  maid  herself,"  said  the  young 
knight,  going  obediently  to  the  door. 

"My  dearest  friend  on  earth  is  in  that  hut, 
Isabel,"  he  said,  stepping  to  the  side  of  her  pal- 
frey; "and  sick  well  nigh  to  death.  'Twill  be  my 
duty  and  pleasure  to  remain  by  his  side.  When 
I  have  nursed  him  back  to  health,  I  shall  be  free. 
Until  then,  you  must  consent  to  await  me  in 
Castle  Yewe.  'Tis  not  far,  Isabel.  But  over 
the  hills,  there.  You'll  do  this  thing  for  me  ?" 

"And  a  right  pretty  nurse  you'd  make,"  ob- 
served Isabel  breezily,  slipping  at  once  from  off 
the  round  back  of  her  palfrey.  "Why,  Richard, 
my  generous  boy,"  said  she,  "you  have  sore  trou- 
ble in  looking  after  your  own  tangled  affairs. 
An  he  be  your  friend,  right  gladly  will  I  attend 
to  the  nursing  of  him  myself.  Happily,  some 
experience  have  I  had  of  such  matters." 

Then,  in  her  usual  masterful  way,  she  bade 
the  foot-boys  strip  the  bags  off  her  horse  and 
started  for  the  hut  door.  With  more  of  admira- 
tion for  the  maid  than  Sir  Richard  had  felt  since 
their  meeting,  he  followed  her  brisk  steps  through 
the  door. 

After  that  there  was  nothing  left  for  him  to 
322 


THE   RETURN    OF    TYRRELL 

do  but  run  upon  errands.  It  would  be — "Rich- 
ard, do  you  do  so?"  and  "Richard,  do  you  do 
thus?"  "Richard,  ride  you  to  the  nearest  good- 
wife  and  fetch  me  a  gourd  of  goat's  milk,"  or 
a  measure  of  stum,  or  whatever  other  toothsome 
thing  it  chanced  to  be.  Sir  Richard  was  soon 
thinking  that  his  friend's  lean  body  must  have 
grown  to  be  a  receptacle  for  all  of  the  dainties 
from  the  multitude  of  hills  about  them.  Almost 
every  hour  of  the  day  he  might  have  been  seen 
careering  over  their  round  summits. 

The  clever  foot-boys  made  over  the  lean-to 
into  a  quite  habitable  dwelling,  thatching  its 
sides  and  top  with  dried  grass  from  off  the 
meadow.  Within  its  shelter  Sir  Richard  and 
Harold  and  Thomas  ate,  slept,  and  loitered  away 
the  time. 

There  was  a  quaint  old  Scots  herdsman  who 
used  often  to  visit  them,  bringing  with  him  upon 
every  such  occasion  his  bagpipes,  whereupon  he 
could  play  with  an  uncommon  deftness.  It  was 
this  same  simple,  good-hearted  herdsman  who 
had  looked  in  on  de  Claverlok  twice  or  three 
times  every  day  while  the  warrior  was  alone  dur- 
ing the  interval  of  his  sickness.  Sir  Richard 

323 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

tried  in  many  ways  to  make  him  the  richer,  or 
rather  the  less  poor,  because  of  the  timely  succor 
he  had  brought  his  friend,  but  the  old  herds- 
man would  have  none  of  the  young  knight's 
nobles. 

It  seemed  curious  to  Sir  Richard  that,  among 
the  countless  gruesome  legends  and  wild  tales 
that  Kimbuchie  had  ever  ready  at  his  tongue's 
end,  there  was  the  same  one  of  the  Red  Tavern 
that  he  had  heard  so  often  repeated  whilst  riding 
with  Belwiggar  along  the  Sauchieburn  Pass. 
Good  Tammas  would  not  have  it  that  twice  the 
young  knight  had  been  beneath  its  roof,  and  was 
yet  there  before  him  to  tell  the  tale.  "Awell, 
lad,"  he  would  say,  "awell.  I  ken  well  thou'st  a 
muckle  lang  tongue  betwixt  thy  teeth,  .  .  . 
a  muckle  lang  tongue." 

Following  the  first  two  or  three  days  of  their 
arrival,  there  remained  but  little  for  Sir  Richard 
to  do  within  the  sick  knight's  quarters.  Isabel 
had  both  a  keen  eye  and  a  right  willing  hand. 
By  stretching  the  tent  cloth  across  one  side  of 
the  room  she  secured  to  herself  a  fair  sized  re- 
tiring room  of  her  own.  She  appeared  to  take 
a  positive  delight  in  the  task  of  transforming 

324 


THE   RETURN    OF    TYRRELL 

the  rude  and  not  over  clean  interior  of  the  hut 
into  a  place  that  was  neat,  cozy,  and  altogether 
inviting. 

Sir  Richard  began  to  wonder  why,  in  such  a 
pleasing  environment,  de  Claverlok  was  not  mak- 
ing a  more  rapid  progress  toward  health.  They 
had  been  there  now  nearly  a  fortnight,  and  he 
appeared  to  have  gained  but  little,  if  anything, 
in  the  way  of  weight  or  strength.  Indeed,  after 
the  first  day  or  two  the  sick  knight  had  fallen 
into  an  unusual  and  melancholy  silence.  Often 
Sir  Richard  would  steal  a  glance  at  him  through 
the  window,  and  always  he  would  see  him  idly 
plucking  at  his  coverings,  the  while  his  big,  hol- 
low eyes  would  be  bent  upon  every  movement  of 
his  fair  nurse. 

"Richard!"  Isabel  called  to  him  one  morning 
while  he  was  having  breakfast  in  the  lean-to.  It 
was  just  past  dawn,  with  the  sun  painting  a  rose- 
glory  above  the  eastern  hills.  When  the  young 
knight  went  to  her  she  was  standing  just  outside 
the  closed  door  of  the  hut.  He  remarked  to  him- 
self how  pale  seemed  her  face  in  despite  of  the 
sun's  warm  reflection  upon  it. 

"What  is  it,  Isabel?"  he  inquired,  feeling  a 
325 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

vague  apprehension  as  to  the  welfare  of  his 
friend. 

:  'Tis  this,  Richard,"  said  Isabel  gravely,  "one 
of  the  foot-boys  must  you  post  me  on  to  Ban- 
nockburn.  Counsel  him  to  bring  instantly  a 
leech,  .  .  .  the  best  in  the  town.  I  would 
e'en  send  you,  but  you  may  be  needed  here." 

"I  pray  you,  Isabel,  tell  me  not  that  he  is 
worse." 

"I  fear  me.  .  .  .  Ah !  Much  I  fear  me  that 
you  are  soon  to  lose  your  friend,"  Isabel  an- 
swered drearily. 

In  all  haste  Sir  Richard  filled  Harold's  wallet 
with  coins  and  sent  him  clipping  above  the  hills 
toward  Bannockburn,  whereupon  he  sat  down 
upon  a  boulder,  yielding  himself  to  the  gloomiest 
of  reflections.  He  was  staring,  with  chin  buried 
deep  in  his  hands,  along  the  winding  roadway. 
Upon  a  sudden,  looming  gaunt  against  the  sky, 
he  saw  the  familiar  figure  of  the  knight  in  black 
riding  slowly  over  the  hills.  Hurrying  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  hut,  Sir  Richard  stood 
outside  the  window  and  signed  Isabel  to  come 
out. 

"Make  haste;  what  is  it?  Your  friend  has  but 
326 


THE   RETURN   OF    TYRRELL 

this  moment  begged  to  speak  with  you  in  pri- 
vate," said  she,  when  she  had  joined  the  young 
knight  outside. 

"Tyrrell  is  approaching  in  this  direction,"  said 
Sir  Richard.  "I  saw  him  but  now  riding  over 
the  northern  hill." 

"Give  thanks  to  God!"  exclaimed  Isabel  with 
an  earnest  and  deep  fervor,  clasping  tightly  to- 
gether her  white  hands. 

"Why,  because  that  you  shall  now  be  discov- 
ered?" 

"Nay ;  what  care  I  for  that,  .  .  .  now!  But 
because  yonder  tyrant,"  she  hurriedly  went  on, 
leading  Sir  Richard  to  the  side  of  the  cabin 
whence  Tyrrell  could  be  seen,  "is  a  cunning 
chymist,  a  famous  physician,  ...  a  student 
of  Linacre.  Go,  join  your  friend,  .  .  .  but 
have  a  care,  excite  him  not.  I'll  await  my  uncle 
here." 

For  days  Sir  Richard  had  noted  a  change  in 
Isabel's  manner.  Bit  by  bit  she  seemed  to  have 
grown  more  grave  and  thoughtful,  and  less 
breezily  abrupt  in  her  way  of  speaking.  He  had 
remarked  the  humility  with  which  she  obeyed  de 
Claverlok's  slightest  wish.  Upon  this  morning 

327 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

she  had  displayed  a  depth  of  feeling  of  which  he 
had  considered  her  quite  incapable.  In  seeking 
out  the  reason  as  he  was  making  his  way  into  the 
hut,  the  answer  dawned  suddenly  upon  him.  He 
understood. 

"Well,  my  good  friend  de  Claverlok,"  said 
he,  with  an  attempt  to  be  cheerful,  as  he  came 
beside  the  sick  man's  bed.  "Methought  that  by 
now  you  would  be  on  horse  and  a-tilting." 

"Hark  thee,  Dick,"  de  Claverlok  whispered. 
"I'll  be  a-tilting  with  the  devil  by  to-morrow, 
.  .  .  eh!"  whereupon  he  smiled,  a  wan,  brave 
smile.  Then,  looking  soberly  up  into  the  young 
knight's  eyes — "Dick,  .  .  .  friend,  .  .  . 
I  have  a  confession  to  make  ere  I  lay  down  my 
last  lance,"  he  said.  "God's  sake!  To  think  that 
I  should  play  the  fool  at  my  age,  .  .  .  two 
score  and  four,  come  the  seventeenth  day  of  next 
month — "  he  paused  for  a  space,  drooping  his 
dimmed  eyes.  "But  to  my  confession:  I  meant 
no  harm,  .  .  .  God  wot,  my  boy,  and  I  in- 
tended not  to  do  it,  Dick;  .  .  .  but  I  loved 
the  maid  with  whom  your  troth  is  plighted  from 
the  moment  her  dainty  foot  stepped  across  yon 

sill.    ...    I  ask  your  forgiveness " 

328 


THE   RETURN   OF   TYRRELL 

"De  Claverlok,  .  .  .  dear  old  friend, 
.  .  .  are  you  serious?" 

"Serious,      .    .    .    eh?" 

"God  of  my  fathers!  Do  you  mean  it?"  Sir 
Richard  fervently  exclaimed.  "An  this  be  im- 
periling your  precious  life,  take  her,  man,  and 
let  health  return  upon  you." 

Thereupon  the  grizzled  knight  discovered  a 
strength  wherewith  to  frown. 

'Tis  most  unseemly  this,  .  .  .  most  un- 
seemly, .  .  .  eh!  And  you,  Dick,  with  your 
troth  but  fresh " 

"De  Claverlok,"  interrupted  Sir  Richard 
firmly,  "no  promises  have  passed.  She  thinks 
me  but  a  silly  youth — which  is  true.  ...  I 
am.  Isabel  cares  not  a  fig  for  me,  nor,  by  my 
faith,  do  I  for  her!  We  shall  never  wed.  Get 
you  back  inside  your  coat  of  mail  and  make  her 
happy,  for  she  loves  you,  my  friend.  I  read  it 
in  her  sad  eyes  but  this  moment  gone." 

"Say  you  truly,  Dick?  God's  sake,  boy,  you 
— you,  .  .  .  but  when  I  get  me  inside  my 
harness  I'll  have  a  lance  at  you,  Dick,  for  say- 
ing somewhat  against  her." 

Sir  Richard  pressed  then  the  fevered  hand 
329 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

that  the  sick  man  tried  to  lift  within  his.  Where- 
upon de  Claverlok  smiled,  and,  sighing  hap- 
pily, seemed  to  fall  into  a  deep  and  peaceful 
sleep. 

When  the  young  knight  stepped  lightly 
through  the  door  he  saw  Tyrrell  seated  upon  his 
horse,  with  Isabel  pleading  at  his  stirrup  for  him 
to  dismount  and  wait  upon  the  sick  man. 

"Attend  upon  my  words,  Sir  Richard  Rohan," 
Tyrrell  said  as  the  young  knight  drew  beside 
them.  "This  ungrateful  maid,  having  withdrawn 
herself  by  stealth  from  beneath  the  shelter  of 
my  roof,  now  desires  me  to  succor  a  knight  of 
whom  she  is  enamored.  Let  her  first  take  solemn 
oath,  in  thy  presence,  that  she  will  not  journey 
inside  of  Castle  Yewe.  Nor  shall  she,  an  she  be 
carried  there  by  force,  make  known  my  plans  to 
Douglas.  As  to  her  inheritance:  I  have  it  safe 
invested,  and  will  yield  her  warrant  to  have  it 
delivered  into  her  hands  either  in  Glasgow  or  in 
London.  Art  thou  witness  to  this?" 

"Yea,  Sir  James,  I  am." 

"Isabel  Savoy,"  resumed  Tyrrell,  "do  thou 
lift  up  thy  right  hand  to  Heaven  and  swear?" 

She  looked  at  the  two  men  with  big  eyes, 
330 


THE   RETURN   OF    TYRRELL 

proudly,  her  lips  firmly  set.  It  was  as  though  the 
victory  was  hers.  She  took  the  oath. 

"And  now,  a  word  with  thee,  Sir  Richard," 
grim  Tyrrell  said,  turning  toward  the  young 
knight.  "The  man  stricken  within  is  thy  dearest 
friend,  I  have  been  told.  Mayhap  I  can  save 
him  to  thee;  mayhap  not.  Everything  of  skill 
that  I  possess  shall  be  used  in  his  behalf,  an  thou 
wilt  agree  upon  thy  knightly  word  to  return  with 
me  anon  to  the  Red  Tavern  and  listen  there  to 
some  things  that  I  have  to  say.  Thy  honest 
word,  .  .  .  'twill  be  sufficient?" 

"I  give  it  willingly,"  Sir  Richard  said. 

"Then  assist  me  to  dismount.  .  .  .  I'm  sorry, 
sore,  and  lame.  Friend  Douglas,  suspecting 
something  of  my  conniving  at  thy  escape,  Sir 
Richard,  gave  me  a  bit  taste  of  the  torture. 
Whereupon,  learning  nothing  from  my  sealed 
lips,  apologized,  and  set  me  free.  He  would 
have  done  for  me  for  all,  an  he  dared.  Beshrew 
me,  though,  an  I  can  see  how  thou  art  still  abroad, 
with  all  of  the  Douglas  forces  searching  so  dili- 
gently for  thee.  Thy  proximity  to  his  citadel  it 
must  have  been  that  hath  saved  thee." 

Sir  Richard  remarked  that  he  was  looking  ex- 
331 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

ceedingly  pale,  seeming  old  and  decrepit  when 
compared  with  his  sturdy  appearance  upon  the 
day  that  he  had  shattered  lances  with  him  in  the 
lists.  The  young  knight  helped  him  to  dismount 
and  led  him,  cursing  at  every  step,  to  the  door  of 
the  hut. 

"I  should  have  known,"  Tyrrell  said  to  Sir 
Richard,  upon  joining  him  in  the  thatched  lean- 
to  about  an  hour  later,  "that  faithful  de  Claver- 
lok  would  be  somewhere  in  thy  vicinity.  Prithee, 
and  how  is  't?  Tell  me,  Sir  Richard?" 

"Suffer  me  first  to  hear  news  of  my  friend," 
said  the  young  knight.  "Thinkest  thou  that  he 
will  make  a  return  to  his  old  good  health?" 

"Methinks  he  is  sore  in  love  with  the  maiden, 
Isabel,"  Tyrrell  answered,  nodding  his  head  and 
smiling  grimly.  "Well — 'tis  a  most  powerful 
stimulating  nostrum.  An  I  miss  not  my  guess, 
he'll  get  him  well." 

Thereupon,  with  a  right  good  heart,  Sir  Rich- 
ard recounted  to  Tyrrell  the  story  of  his  travels 
with  de  Claverlok. 

"And  dost  tell  me  that  he  has  been  all  of  these 
days  in  thy  company  without  divulging  word 
of  our  plans,  or  of  thy  part  therein?" 

332 


THE    RETURN    OF    TYRRELL 

"Not  one  word — his  knightly  vow  withheld  his 
honest  tongue.  But  I  am  certes  ready  to  hear 
them  now,"  declared  Sir  Richard. 

"God  wot,  but  there's  a  man  to  maintain  his 
knightly  vow!  Though  'twould  have  been  bet- 
ter had  he  broken  faith  and  told  thee  of  some 
things.  So  thou  art  ready  to  listen  now,  Sir 
Richard?  Well,  there's  a  good  reason  for  thy 
desire  to  become  acquainted  with  these  mysteri- 
ous haps.  But,  have  patience  yet  a  little  time. 
Everything  shalt  thou  know  when  we  return  to 
the  tavern ;  .  .  .  everything,  Sir  Richard." 

After  that  he  sat  for  a  long  space,  smiling, 
rubbing  his  hands  together,  and  muttering  to 
himself.  Upon  returning  to  himself,  he  com- 
manded the  foot-boy,  Thomas,  to  bring  him  his 
saddle-bags.  Taking  from  them  many  packages, 
herbs  and  powders,  he  called  Isabel  to  him  and 
instructed  her  as  to  the  manner  in  which  they 
should  be  administered.  When  he  was  done,  she 
signed  Sir  Richard  with  her  eves  to  follow  her 
outside. 

"He  will  soon  be  well,  Richard,"  she  said,  tak- 
ing the  young  knight's  hand.  "And  now,  boy, 
you  are  free — and  happy,  too,  I  make  no  doubt. 

333 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

Ah!  What  hosts  of  enemies  have  my  sharp 
tongue  made  for  me !  But  I'll  curb  it  now,  Rich- 
ard— I've  found  its  master,"  she  added,  laugh- 
ing lightly,  and  thereupon  went  tripping  through 
the  cabin  door. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

OF    HOW    SIR    RICHARD    LISTENED    TO    A 
STORY   IN   THE    FOREST 

WHEN  Sir  Richard  came  again  into 
the  outer  hut  Tyrrell  was  setting  a 
pot  to  boil  upon  the  fire.     As  he 
bent  above  the  red  blaze,  dropping  pinches  of 
various  herbs  within  the  kettle  the  while  he  peered 
closely,  from  time  to  time,  into  the  open  pages  of 
a  book  lying  beside  him  upon  a  stool,  he  minded 
the  young  knight  of  a  black  wizard,  engaged  in 
weaving  some  unholy  incantation. 

"Bear  me  company  over  the  hills,  Sir  Rich- 
ard," he  said  presently,  setting  the  now  steam- 
ing pot  upon  the  ground.  "We  must  procure 
us  another  herb  to  complete  the  nostrum.  I* 
faith,  and  what  a  smell  is  here!"  he  added,  tak- 
ing up  a  staff  and  starting,  lame  and  halting, 
for  the  door.  "But  'tis  as  efficacious  to  the  body, 
withal,  as  the  odor  is  displeasing  to  the  nos- 
trils." 

335 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

Sir  Richard  noted  Tyrrell's  strange  demeanor 
as  they  moved  slowly  from  hillock  to  hillock. 
When  his  keen  eyes  were  not  bent  upon  the 
earth,  they  would  be  regarding  him  with  an  in- 
tent and  somewhat  of  an  inquiring  glance. 

Times  he  would  kick  aside  a  plant,  stoop  with 
a  painful  deliberation,  and  convey  a  fragment 
of  its  root  or  leaf  to  his  lips.  If  it  happened 
to  be  of  the  kind  of  which  he  was  in  search,  he 
would  unearth  it  with  the  point  of  his  mailed 
foot  and  continue  upon  his  way.  Though  by 
now  he  was  carrying  a  considerable  quantity  of 
the  herbs,  he  was  making  no  move  to  return.  Sev- 
eral times  he  appeared  upon  the  point  of  speak- 
ing, but  always  his  glance  would  fall  swiftly 
from  that  of  his  companion  and  engage  the 
ground  at  his  feet.  In  this  silent  manner  they 
drew,  at  length,  within  the  shadows  of  the  wood. 

"A  strange  foreboding  of  some  direful  hap- 
pening doth  rest  heavily  upon  my  mind,"  he  said 
then.  "Our  grasp  on  life  is  indeed  a  slender 
thing,  and  easily  broken.  Mayhap  'twould  be 
the  better  part  of  wisdom  to  say  some  things 
to  thee  here  .  .  .  and  now."  He  paused,  meas- 
uring the  young  knight  carefully  with  his  eye. 

336 


A   STORY  IN  THE   FOREST 

"Dost  know,  Sir  Richard,"  he  said  then,  after 
somewhat  of  an  impulsive  manner,  as  he  went 
stirring  about  with  his  staff  among  the  fallen 
leaves,  "that  in  history  I  shall  ever  be  written 
down  as  a  base  and  cowardly  murderer?  Thou 
hast  belike  heard  the  dismal  story  of  the  boy 
princes  in  the  Tower?" 

"In  very  truth,  I  have,"  Sir  Richard  made  an- 
swer. 

'Tis  known  of  the  whole  world,  I  doubt  not," 
he  gloomily  pursued.  "And  yet  .  .  .  and  yet, 
I  was  but  plotting  .  .  .  plotting  deeply,  dar- 
ingly ...  to  save  their  precious  lives.  Hark 
ye,  Sir  Richard  .  .  .  and  mark  thee  well  that 
which  I  am  about  to  say.  An  it  were  not  for  a 
fiendish  knave,  called  Forrest, — upon  whom 
God's  direst  curse  rest! — they  had  been  both 
saved  to  England. 

"Forrest,  learning  of  the  command  laid  upon 
me  by  King  Richard  foully  to  murder  both  his 
nephews  whilst  they  did  sleep,  procured  quittance 
of  the  keys  from  Brakenbury  and  smothered  the 
younger  prince  before  I  rushed,  with  Dighton, 
my  groom,  into  the  Tower  room.  Commanding 
my  faithful  servant  to  put  pillow  lightly  above 

337 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

the  mouth  of  the  living  prince,  the  Duke  of 
York,  I  bade  Forrest  instantly  to  carry  tidings 
of  their  death  to  the  bloodless  rooting  hog,  who 
was  gnawing  his  nails  and  awaiting  news  in  the 
palace.  With  Forrest  safe  dispatched  to  the 
King,  we  hastily  garbed  the  prince  in  kirtles, 
thus  giving  him  the  semblance  of  a  young  maid. 
My  men  were  waiting  by  the  side  of  the  Tower 
gate  .  .  .  they  brought  him  safe  to  Scotland." 

"But " 

"Nay  .  .  .  prithee,  listen!"  he  said,  seating 
himself  upon  a  lightning-riven  log,  whilst  Sir 
Richard  took  stand  against  its  splintered,  up- 
right trunk.  "The  royal  youth  was  fair-haired, 
pale  and  sickly.  All  my  cunning  arts  were  im- 
potent to  stay  the  implacable  hand  of  death. 
Thus,  Sir  Knight,  did  the  young  Duke  pass  into 
oblivion  .  .  .  beneath  my  very  roof,  and  here  in 
bleak  Scotland.  I  durst  not  even  acclaim  his 
passing;  but  laid  him,  then,  within  an  unmarked, 
though  not  an  unmourned,  grave.  Slowly, 
stealthily,  but  surely,  I  had  been  massing  a  power 
behind  him  that  would  have  swept  him  straight 
upon  England's  throne.  Upon  either  coast,  Sir 
Richard,  this  power  is  still  augmenting.  Ships 

338 


A   STORY  IN   THE   FOREST 

speed  me  soldiers  from  France  and  Spain  upon 
the  east,  and  from  Holland  and  Italy  upon  the 
west."  He  paused  for  a  space,  then, — "Dost 
find  my  tale  interesting?"  he  asked. 

"Above  any  I  have  ever  heard,"  Sir  Richard 
told  him. 

"And  what  wouldst  thou  say,"  he  resumed, 
raising  his  hand  impressively,  "an  I  swore  to  thee 
that  I  had  found  a  brave-hearted  and  goodly 
youth  whose  right  to  a  seat  upon  the  throne  of 
England  took  precedence  over  that  of  the  usur- 
per now  sitting  there?  A  tyrant . . .  who  gave 
warrant  of  death  into  the  hands  of  his  God- 
brother,  and  laid  command  upon  him  to  deliver  it 
upon  that  brother's  executioner  . . .  what  wouldst 
thou  say — Sir  Richard  Rohan,  Earl  of  War- 
wick, son  of  Edward,  Duke  of  Clarence?" 

Sir  Richard  felt  as  though  the  meshes  of  a  far- 
spread  net  were  dropping  down  about  him. 

"I  cannot  say . . .  Even  I  cannot  think!"  he 
cried,  burying  his  face  in  his  arms. 

"Thou  art  but  a  brave-hearted,  artless  youth, 
Sir  Richard  . . .  Sire.  Enough  hast  thou  heard 
to-day  to  turn  the  head  of  Caesar.  Think  upon 
what  I  have  said . . .  upon  what  I  have  yet  to 

339 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

say  . . .  and  make  answer  at  thy  calmer  leisure," 
said  Tyrrell  in  a  manner  of  voice  dignified, 
pacific,  kind.  Then,  reaching  across,  he  grasped 
the  young  knight's  arm  and  drew  him  to  a  seat 
beside  him  upon  the  fallen  log. 

"Once  Lord  Douglas,"  he  then  resumed,  "was 
sworn  ally  of  mine;  but  a  craven  traitor,  whom 
we  now  know  to  be  the  Renegade  Duke  of 
Buckingham,  carried  tidings  of  the  prince's 
death  and  my  untoward  interest  in  thy  welfare 
into  Castle  Ye  we.  Twice  since  thy  coming  have 
the  Douglas  forces  given  me  battle  —  And  yet, 
without  the  warrants,  he  cannot  be  acquainted 
with  thy  true  identity  . . .  "tis  passing 

"But  I  had  duplicates  of  the  warrants,"  Sir 
Richard  said  to  him;  "the  which  you  may  be  sure 
I  made  haste  to  deliver." 

"Duplicates!" 

"Sewn  within  my  doublet — they  were  passed 
over  in  thy  search." 

"God  in  Heaven  absolve  me  for  this  inadver- 
tence!" roared  Tyrrell,  getting  to  his  feet,  and, 
in  seeming  f orgetfulness  of  his  infirmities,  strode 
furiously  back  and  forth  above  the  brown  and 
crackling  leaves.  "Much,  indeed,  is  now  made 

340 


A  STORY  IN   THE   FOREST 

plain  to  me.  Yet . . .  after  losing  his  hold  of 
him,"  he  went  on,  communing  with  himself, 
"why  did  Douglas  so  stoutly  maintain  his  posi- 
tion . . .  there  remains  no  other  claimant . . .  'tis 
passing  strange — passing  strange!" 

For  some  time  thereafter  he  continued  setting 
restless  footfalls  amidst  the  carpet  of  dead 
leaves,  clenching  his  hands  and  biting  his  thin 
lips. 

Upon  a  sudden  Sir  Richard  recalled  the  cir- 
cumstance of  the  fair-haired  youth  imprisoned 
in  Castle  Yewe. 

"Mayhap  I  can  lesson  thee  of  some  things,  Sir 
James,"  he  volunteered. 

"Then  thou  wilt  discover  in  me  a  right  willing 
listener,"  said  Tyrrell,  seating  himself  again 
upon  the  riven  log. 

So,  briefly  as  might  be,  and  clearly  as  he  could 
compass  it,  Sir  Richard  related  the  story  of  the 
secret  passageway  and  of  Lady  Douglas'  daily 
teaching  of  the  imprisoned  youth. 

"Ah!  what  monstrous  iniquity!"  Tyrrell  cried 
when  his  companion  had  finished,  thrusting  his 
staff  deep  into  the  black  mould.  "Now  is  every- 
thing made  transparent ...  as  plain  as  the  haps 

341 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

of  yesterday!  So  false  Douglas  would  impose 
him  a  counterfeit  prince  upon  the  credulous 
people  of  England?  Marry!  marry!  to  what 
depths  of  dishonor  doth  self  ambition  lead  us! 
But  what  saidst  thou  was  this  youth's  name,  Sir 
Richard?" 

"Perkin  Warbeck." 

"I*  faith  I  know  it  not.  Some  yeoman's  son, 
forsooth.  Poor  boy !  an  he  follow  this  adventure 
to  its  end,  he'll  be  gazing  upon  his  body  from 
another  view-point  than  atop  his  shoulders.  But 
more  upon  this  same  subject  when  we  are  come 
into  the  Tavern.  Let  all  of  that  which  has  been 
said  to  thee  to-day  assimilate  perfectly  with  thy 
understanding.  Papers  shall  be  laid  before  thee 
in  substantiation  of  all  my  statements." 

Stooping,  Tyrrell  took  up  the  herbs  which  he 
had  gathered  by  the  way. 

"Let  us  now  return  and  finish  the  brewing  of 
good  de  Claverlok's  nostrum,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

OF    HOW    ONCE    MORE    THE    YOUNG    KNIGHT 
JOURNEYED    SOUTHWARD 

TYRRELL  appeared  singularly  nervous 
and  distraught;  and,  after  having  fin- 
ished with  the  brewing  of  the  nostrum, 
was  for  setting  out  immediately  upon  his  jour- 
ney with  Sir  Richard  to  the  tavern.  But  the 
young  knight  remained  firm  in  his  determination 
not  to  leave  de  Claverlok  till  he  was  well  assured 
of  his  ultimate  recovery.  His  great,  sinewy 
frame  had  been  sore  racked  with  fever,  Tyrrell 
told  him,  and  it  would  be  many  weeks  ere  de 
Claverlok  could  be  expected  to  regain  his  usual 
health. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  the  foot-boy, 
Harold,  returned  from  Bannockburn  with  a  doc- 
tor. This  good  man  was  a  fat,  bulbous-faced 
person,  wearing  a  flamboyant  badge  in  the  shape 
of  an  enormous  wart  directly  upon  the  tip  of  his 

343 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

nose.  He  arrived  with  a  tremendous  fuss  and 
bustle,  wheezing1  so  that  he  was  to  be  heard  in 
every  corner  of  the  place.  He  subsided  upon 
the  instant,  however,  when  he  learned  that  he  was 
expected  to  consult  with  a  student  of  the  eminent 
Linacre. 

Soon  he  came  out  to  take  sup  with  Tyrrell 
and  Sir  Richard  in  their  little  hut.  When  the 
young  knight  made  haste  to  inquire  as  to  what 
case  his  friend  was  in: 

"It  doth  mightily  please  me,"  answered  the 
fat  doctor  from  Bannockburn,  "to  agree  with  his 
worshipful  lordship  inside  .  .  .  ahem!  I  may 
e'en  say  that  mine  own  opinions  were  exactly  one 
with  his  ...  and  him,  sir  knight,  a  celebrated 
student  and  co-worker  with  the  famous  Thomas 
Linacre,  of  London;  who,  as  thou  dost  proba- 
bly know,  doth  entertain  many  a  cunning  pre- 
cept somewhat  at  variance  from  the  accepted 
standards  of  the  older  .  .  .  and  .  .  .  well — 
schools  .  .  .  ahem!  Yet  did  his  worshipful  lord- 
ship do  me  the  distinguished  honor  to  inform 
me  that  my  humble  ...  er  ...  prognosis  was  in- 
finitely similar,  if  not  somewhat  superior,  withal, 
— an  thou'lt  permit  me  to  say  thus — to  that  which 

344 


SOUTHWARD 

would  have  been  arrived  upon  by  a  great  many 
...  er  ...  practitioners  and  chy mists  of  ... 
ahem!  .  .  .  London." 

"Gramercy  for  thy  learned  opinion,"  said  Sir 
Richard  winking-  above  the  doctor's  bald  head 
at  the  foot-boys.  "So !  thou'rt  of  opinion  that  the 
good  knight  will  surely  recover?" 

"Ah!  assuredly  will  he.  Though  in  cases  of 
this  kind,  where  the  .  .  .  ahem! — alimentary 
passages  have  become  somewhat  flabby  .  .  .  yes 
.  .  .  flabby,  I  may  say,  from  long  disuse  (Sir 
Richard  thought  of  all  his  scourings  over  the 
hills  for  goats-milk,  goodies,  and  wine!) — there 
may  follow,  anon,  a  more  or  less  .  .  .  ahem! — 
more  or  less,  I  say,  violent  inflammation  of  the  . . . 
er  .  .  .  esophagus ;  which,  if  not  immediately  al- 
layed— but,  by  the  mass,  and  what  a  delicious 
odor  is  that!" 

Harold,  just  then,  had  happily  uncovered  the 
simmering  kettle. 

"Yes,"  said  Sir  Richard,  "art  hungry,  good 
doctor?" 

"In  sooth,  an  I  be  not,  sir  knight,  thou  mayst 
call  me  a  fustian  shove-groat  shilling!  marry! 
marry!  and  were  not  such  a  ride  as  I've  had  to- 

345 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

day  full  fatiguing  to  a  gentleman  of  my  avoir- 
dupois?" 

Well,  after  contemplating  the  widespread  dev- 
astation which  the  amiable  doctor  wrought  upon 
the  viands  set  before  him,  right  willingly  would 
anyone  have  yielded  to  him  the  palm  of  gluttony 
—though  it  must  be  said  of  Sir  Richard  that  his 
own  appetite  was  something  not  below  the  aver- 
age. And  how  the  man  could  drink,  too!  It 
seemed  to  Sir  Richard  that  he  would  never  have 
done  with  pouring  their  hard-fetched  wine  into 
his  gullet.  He  might  appropriately  have  been 
girded  with  iron  hoops  and  set  aside  as  a  filled 
hogshead  when  the  last  drop  trickled  within  his 
vast  interior.  A  flabby  esophagus  could  never 
have  been  attributed  to  the  good  doctor,  withal. 
But  he  warmed  up  famously  under  the  wine's 
genial  influence,  and  regaled  his  hosts  through- 
out the  evening  with  many  a  merry  tale.  Sir 
Richard  misliked  him  not  at  all;  and,  before  the 
good  doctor  set  up  his  thunderous  snoring  before 
the  pleasing  warmth  of  the  blaze,  the  young 
knight  had  secured  his  promise  to  remain  with  de 
Claverlok  till  he  was  safe  on  the  road  to  health. 
It  may  be  said  further,  too,  that  he  was  a  gainer 

346 


SOUTHWARD 

of  the  half  of  Sir  Richard's  remaining  nobles  be- 
cause of  the  bargain. 

The  young  knight  passed  a  sleepless  night,  in- 
terspersed with  fanciful  dreams  wrought  around 
the  circumstance  of  his  new-discovered  ancestry. 
He  seemed  to  be  always  alone  and  lonely,  sitting 
upon  a  lofty  eminence,  with  a  ray  of  dazzling 
white  light,  ever  broadening,  sweeping  from 
where  he  sat  into  illimitable  space.  The  vast  area 
thus  brilliantly  illumined  ever  seemed  peopled 
with  a  countless  multitude  of  kneeling  beings; 
reminding  him  of  the  glimmering  sun  of  evening 
lying  softly  upon  the  woolly  backs  of  innumera- 
ble sheep. 

It  chanced  that  Sir  Richard  was  the  last  mem- 
ber of  their  little  company  to  be  abroad  the  next 
morning,  and  when  he  came  out  into  the  sunshine 
Harold  and  Thomas,  who  had  been  whispering 
together,  dropped  in  concert  to  their  knees.  Then 
Sir  James  Tyrrell,  now  more  than  ever  bent  and 
gray  looking,  drew  toward  him,  limping  around 
the  corner  of  the  sick  knight's  hut.  He  bowed 
to  Sir  Richard  after  a  grave  and  courtly  fash- 
ion, and,  when  the  young  knight  extended  his 
hand,  saluted  it  deferentially  with  his  lips.  Not 

347 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

anyone  could  have  been  more  abject  in  his  ob- 
sequiousness than  the  fat  doctor  from  Bannock- 
burn.  He  begged  Sir  Richard  but  to  lay  some 
command  upon  him  so  that  he  might  give  proof 
of  his  devotion  to  his  cause  and  person.  To  the 
young  knight  it  seemed  to  be  the  beginning  of 
the  fulfillment  of  his  visions.  Only  good  de 
Claverlok  and  unconquerable  Isabel  remained 
the  same;  the  which  resulted  in  Sir  Richard  de- 
riving the  greater  pleasure  from  their  compan- 
ionship. 

All  of  the  while  it  was  to  be  remarked  that 
shrewd  Tyrrell's  eyes  bent  close  upon  Sir  Rich- 
ard's every  action.  By  reaching  out  to  him  a 
taste  of  sovereignty,  he  felt  that  he  was  tempting 
him  to  desire  it  in  a  greater  portion. 

Sir  Richard  divined  that  it  was  to  be  a  silent 
duel  between  them;  and  he  was  bound  to  con- 
fess to  himself  that  he  was  already  becoming 
conscious  of  the  tightening  of  the  net  about  him. 
He  was  becoming  fearful  that  the  master  poli- 
tician might  win. 

It  was  like  a  transitory  release  from  the  clutch 
of  an  unseen,  iron  hand  to  get  within  the  larger 
hut  and  enjoy  a  talk  with  de  Claverlok  and  Isa- 

348 


SOUTHWARD 

bel.  Though  still  pitifully  weak,  it  was  clearly 
to  be  seen  that  Sir  Richard's  faithful  friend  and 
squire  was  now  leaving  his  illness  behind  him. 

"Think  well  and  deeply,  boy,  before  deciding 
upon  thy  course,"  he  advised  Sir  Richard  when 
he  arose  to  take  leave  of  him.  '  'Tis  no  small 
thing  to  hurl  a  great  power  at  a  sleeping,  peace- 
ful nation;  thereby  to  embroil  it  in  bloody  strife 
and  dissensions  ...  eh.  But,  once  thy  path  be 
laid,  follow  it  without  halt  or  deviation  to  the 
end.  Thus  let  me  say,"  he  added,  taking  the 
young  knight's  hand,  "  'twill  be  a  right  brave 
day  for  England  when  thy  consent  be  won  to 
sit  upon  her  throne." 

"But,  whatever  I  do,  de  Claverlok,  and  where- 
ever  I  go,"  Sir  Richard  said,  "your  own  good 
self  shall  sure  be  with  me." 

"Within  this  very  hovel,  Sir  Richard,  we  will 
await  thy  further  command,"  he  replied. 

"Sir  Richard!"  Isabel  called  to  the  young 
knight  as  he  was  about  to  step  to  the  door. 
"Take  this  bit  packet,"  she  said,  handing  him 
the  smallest  of  parcels.  "Guard  it  next  thy  heart 
till  thou  hast  reached  into  the  Forest  of  Lam- 
mermuir — then,  thou  mayst  open  it.  But  remem- 

349 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

her,  boy,  not  before!  And  now,"  she  added, 
standing  a-tiptoe,  "I'll  kiss  thee  a  good-bye  .  .  . 
one  for  myself — one  for  Lionel.  Thou  art  a 
brave,  good  youth,  Sir  Richard." 

There  were  tears  in  the  young  knight's  eyes 
when  he  stepped  outside  the  hut  ready  to  start 
with  Tyrrell,  who  was  on  horse  and  waiting,  upon 
their  journey. 

Sir  Richard  was  surprised  to  discover  that 
Harold's  jennet  was  trapped  and  standing  beside 
his  saddled  stallion.  When  he  inquired  what  it 
meant,  the  foot-boy  went  on  his  knees  before  him 
and  besought  the  young  knight  to  permit  him 
to  become  his  lowly  squire.  When  Sir  Richard 
inquired  of  him  what  Thomas  intended  doing, 
the  foot-boy  informed  him  that  his  mate  had 
sought  a  like  service  with  de  Claverlok. 

"Then  get  off  your  knees,"  Sir  Richard  told 
him,  "and  come  along;  or,  by  the  mass!  I'll  have 
the  broad  of  my  sword  this  moment  at  your 
hinder  quarters." 

Whereupon  they  mounted  and  started  for  the 
road.  Sir  Richard  looked  several  times  over  his 
shoulder-piece;  and  always  his  backward  glance 
would  be  met  by  a  waving  of  Isabel's  lace  scarf 

350 


SOUTHWARD 

in  the  doorway,  and  two  profound  bows  from  in 
front  of  the  smaller  hut.  'Twas  a  sight  well 
worth  seeing — that  awkward  curtsy  of  the  fat 
doctor  from  Bannockburn. 

They  were  perforce  obliged  to  travel  slowly, 
as  TyrrelTs  infirmities  seemed  fast  growing  upon 
him.  From  the  drawn  and  haggard  look  of  his 
thin  countenance  it  could  plainly  be  seen  that 
he  was  in  constant  and  extreme  pain.  More- 
over, Sir  Richard  noted  that  by  now  he  had  ceased 
attributing  his  sufferings  to  the  tortures  to  which 
he  had  been  put  in  Castle  Yewe.  Times  he  would 
be  seized  with  a  fit  of  coughing  of  so  violent  a 
nature  that  Sir  Richard  bethought  him  it  might 
well  have  shattered  his  very  insides. 

Then,  for  the  space  of  two  days,  a  most  un- 
pleasant transition  of  weathers  set  in  upon  them, 
marked  by  incessant  and  dense  fogs,  heavy  rains 
and  sharp,  driving  flurries  of  snow.  So  alarm- 
ingly was  Tyrrell's  sickness  increasing  that 
upon  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day,  it  appeared 
impossible  that  he  would  have  sufficient  strength 
longer  to  sit  horse.  Sir  Richard  begged  him  to 
stay  within  the  herdsman's  cottage,  where  they 
had  stopped  for  the  night,  till  he  had  ridden 

351 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

ahead  to  summon  help.    But  Tyrrell  stubbornly 
refused  to  listen  to  the  young  knight's  entreaties. 

That  day  had  broken  bright,  was  almost  balmy, 
and  brilliantly  clear,  the  gray  storm-pall  having 
rolled  seaward  during  the  night. 

'  'Twill  be  a  salve  to  my  sore  lungs,  sire  .  .  . 
this  blessed  warmth,"  Tyrrell  said  to  Sir  Richard, 
lifting  his  nose  into  the  thin  air  as  he  tottered 
upon  the  young  knight's  arm  toward  his  waiting 
barb. 

With  Harold's  assistance  Sir  Richard  con- 
trived to  seat  Tyrrell  upon  his  horse;  though  it 
was  no  easy  task,  all  encumbered  as  he  was  in 
the  heaviest  of  armor. 

"Put  hand  upon  my  shoulder,  man,"  Sir  Rich- 
ard said  to  him  after  they  had  started,  riding 
close  to  his  side. 

"Without  aid  have  I  come  through  life  .  .  . 
alone  I'll  sit  till  I  fall  .  .  .  sire,"  Tyrrell  an- 
swered gloomily. 

"An  you  call  me  king  rightfully,"  said  Sir 
Richard  sternly,  "put  hand  on  my  shoulder  .  .  . 
'tis  a  command!" 

Tyrrell  turned  upon  the  young  knight  a  wan 
smile  and  then  capitulated. 

352 


SOUTHWARD 

"Now  thou  art  becoming  an  apt  pupil  .  .  . 
sire,"  he  answered  in  a  whisper. 

By  now  they  were  riding  along  a  part  of  the 
Sauchieburn  Pass  with  which  Sir  Richard  was 
not  familiar.  It  was  that  portion  stretching 
northward  from  the  point  where  he  had  left  it 
to  give  battle  with  the  Renegade  Duke.  The 
country  here  was  more  thickly  populated  than 
any  through  which  they  had  passed.  Drawing 
upon  a  high  eminence,  the  three  travelers  could 
see  the  smoke  from  many  chimney-tops  curling 
above  the  downs.  Away  to  the  left  was  a  clus- 
ter of  cottages,  surmounted  by  the  steeple  of  a 
church.  A  good  two  leagues  ahead  could  be  dis- 
tinguished that  which  appeared  to  be  an  inn 
standing  alone  against  the  roadside. 

Like  a  yellow  and  much  broken  ribbon  the 
highway  fell  away  from  their  feet,  threading  in 
wide,  sweeping  curves  along  the  narrow,  wind- 
ing valley.  Upon  this  roadway,  and  appearing 
and  disappearing  with  it  around  the  bases  of  the 
hills,  a  company  of  armed  horsemen  was  riding. 

For  some  time  the  weight  of  Tyrrell's  body 
had  been  bearing  momentarily  more  heavily 
against  that  of  Sir  Richard.  It  could  be  noted 

353 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

that  his  eyes  had  lost  a  great  measure  of  their 
accustomed  brilliancy,  and  that  his  breaths  were 
coming1  thick  and  painfully  labored.  Sir  Rich- 
ard leaned  toward  him  and  told  him  of  the  ap- 
proaching horsemen. 

"Canst  decipher  the  colors  beneath  which  they 
ride?"  Tyrrell  asked  weakly. 

"Methinks  I  can  but  just  make  me  out  a  de- 
vice in  sable  upon  a  field  gules.  The  banners  do 
so  flutter  in  the  wind,"  Sir  Richard  added,  "that 
I  cannot  guess  its  form." 

"Sable  upon  gules,"  Tyrrell  whispered,  with- 
out raising  his  head.  "They  are  thine  own  good 
men  .  .  .  sire." 

As  they  drew  within  easy  distance  Sir  Rich- 
ard recognized  them  to  be  a  part  of  the  company 
of  knights  who  had  bivouaced  around  the  pa- 
vilion of  purple  and  black.  When  the  approach- 
ing company  made  out  who  the  three  horsemen 
were  they  set  up  a  great  shouting,  driving  down 
upon  them  with  waving  swords  and  lances.  They 
grew  quiet  upon  the  instant,  however,  when  they 
observed  that  their  leader,  Sir  James  Tyrrell, 
lifted  not  his  head,  and  bore  in  around  him  with 
grave  and  apprehensive  faces. 

354 


SOUTHWARD 

Suddenly,  then,  and  with  a  supreme  effort  of 
will,  Tyrrell  straightened  his  tall,  gaunt  form 
upon  his  saddle,  scowling  meanwhile  with  deep- 
knitted  brows  upon  the  circle  of  grim  warriors 
gathered  about  him.  Sir  Richard  noted  still  the 
pitiful  half -haze  upon  his  eyes. 

"Knights,"  he  cried,  in  a  deep  and  penetrating 
voice ;  "I  have  kept  my  vows  to  thee.  Here,  now, 
I  bring  thee  thy  leader — Sir  Richard  Rohan, 
Earl  of  Warwick;  Son  of  Edward,  Duke  of 
Clarence" — he  swayed  so  it  seemed  that  he  must 
surely  fall.  Then,  raising  himself  with  that 
which  seemed  to  be  a  superhuman  effort  high 
upon  his  stirrups :  "I  acclaim  this  young  knight, 
before  all  the  world,  King  Richard  IV!"  he 
shouted,  and  pitched  forward,  inert,  insensible, 
into  the  arms  of  one  of  his  men. 

Right  tenderly  did  they  bear  him  down  the 
hill  till  they  came  to  the  tavern  which  Sir  Rich- 
ard had  glimpsed  from  the  promontory  but  a 
short  while  gone. 

:  'Tis  an  inflammation  of  the  pleura,"  he  whis- 
pered to  Sir  Richard  when  the  young  knight  was 
standing  beside  his  bed  within  a  small  room  of 
the  tavern.  "  'Tis  a  dangerous  sickness  . . .  God 

355 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

wot,  an  I  may  or  may  not  survive,  sire,  to  wit- 
ness the  fruition  of  all  my  labors.  But  the  torch 
is  now  ready  trimmed,  awaiting  but  the  applica- 
tion of  the  spark.  Grant  me  the  boon  of  thy 
promise  to  continue  on  thy  journey  to  the  Red 
Tavern.  Lord  Bishop  Kennedy  shall  soon  seek 
thee  there.  In  him  thou  canst  repose  the  utmost 
confidence ;  I  yield  thee  into  his  hands.  Give  thee 
adieu,  sire,"  he  whispered,  saluting  Sir  Richard's 
outstretched  hand  with  his  feverish  lips. 

The  dim  passageway  outside  the  small  room  in 
which  Tyrrell  had  been  disposed  was  filled  with 
the  low  humming  of  voices,  a  subdued  sound  of 
clanking  swords  and  the  pale  gleamings  of  points 
of  light  on  polished  armor.  As  Sir  Richard 
stepped  through  the  door,  these  solemn-visaged 
knights  moved  silently  against  the  wall  and 
balustrade,  thus  opening  him  an  avenue  down  the 
stairs.  They  made  him  obeisance,  one  by  one,  as 
he  passed  between;  each  whispering  him  a 
princely  name  and  title,  the  which  sang  loud  in 
the  young  knight's  ears  of  the  fame  of  many 
valorous  deeds  long  since  set  down  in  history. 

A  round  dozen  of  them  followed  him  upon  the 
highway,  intending  to  give  him  safe  conduct  to 

356 


SOUTHWARD 

his  destination.  Experiencing  an  intense  longing 
to  be  alone,  however,  Sir  Richard  summoned 
courage  to  decline  their  proffered  services,  and 
thereupon  set  his  stallion's  head  again  toward  the 
Red  Tavern  with  none  but  Harold  in  his  train. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

OF    A    VISION    IN    THE    FOREST    OF 
LAMMERMUIR 

NOW  that  he  was  no  longer  moving  under 
the  masterful  influence  of  Tyrrell,  Sir 
Richard  began  to  feel  brave  to  throw 
aside   the  honors   that  had  been  peremptorily 
thrust  upon  him.    After  the  manner  of  an  ill- 
wrought  suit  of  armor,  they  were  galling  and 
wearing  upon  his  unwilling  shoulders. 

Being  innately  modest  and  not  desiring  fame 
or  power,  Sir  Richard  had  always  shirked  po- 
sitions in  which  any  obligation  of  assuming  the 
initiative  was  concerned;  and  certainly  now  he 
felt  no  desire  to  leap  at  once  to  the  very  pinna- 
cle of  such  positions.  Contrariwise,  he  felt  a 
deep  and  genuine  yearning  to  be  once  again,  to 
himself  and  those  about  him,  just  plain  Sir  Rich- 
ard Rohan,  knight,  free  lance,  and  good  fellow 
welcome  met  to  all  of  his  friends.  He  was  moved 

358 


A  VISION  IN  THE  FOREST 

by  no  impulse  to  seek  revenge  upon  King  Henry. 
"For,"  he  argued  with  himself,  "the  King  did 
but  attempt  to  do  the  thing  which  I,  were  I  in 
his  place,  would  have  been  deficient  of  the 
courage  to  do;  to  render  my  sovereignty  unas- 
sailable. An  such  a  momentous  matter  be  at 
stake,  of  what  slight  consequence  becomes  a  life 
more,  or  a  life  less?  and  if,  forsooth,  it  chanced 
to  be  the  life  of  a  friend  .  .  .  well,  so  much  the 
worse  for  the  friend." 

It  never  dawned  upon  Sir  Richard  in  his 
youthful  exuberance  to  consider  that  there  were 
two  questions  involved:  the  one  of  claiming  the 
throne,  and  the  other  of  securing  a  seat  thereon. 
His  belief  was  genuine  that  the  fate  of  a  great 
empire  was  suspended  upon  the  slender  thread 
of  his  choice. 

As  to  his  breaking  faith  with  Tyrrell  and 
stealing  away  without  first  journeying  to  the  Red 
Tavern,  he  did  not  consider  that  for  a  moment. 

Overburdened  with  a  sense  of  the  grave  re- 
sponsibility thus  imposed  upon  him,  he  rode 
straight  through  the  Forest  of  Lammermuir 
without  once  thinking  to  open  the  parcel  that  Isa- 
bel had  given  into  his  hand.  Had  this  not  been 

359 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

so,  Sir  Richard  would  doubtless  have  suspected 
a  circumstance  that  was  soon  to  burst  upon  him 
in  the  nature  of  a  wonderful  surprise. 

The  Red  Tavern,  which,  upon  each  previous 
occasion  when  Sir  Richard  had  approached  it,  had 
appeared  so  forbiddingly  lonely,  was  now  become 
a  veritable  hive  of  buzzing  industry.  It  was 
early  evening  when  the  young  knight  arrived 
there;  and,  in  the  obscure  twilight,  he  could  just 
make  out  the  shadowy  outlines  of  many  horses 
tethered  to  the  trees  upon  both  sides  of  the  pass. 
Scores  of  blazing,  smoking  torches  set  upright 
into  the  ground  shed  a  weird  illumination  over 
this  scene  of  strange  activity. 

Guards  were  stationed  closely  round  about. 
"Richard  Rohan,  knight  .  .  .  and  squire,"  the 
young  knight  passed  word  to  a  pair  of  them  who 
halted  and  challenged  him.  Plainly  he  could 
hear,  then,  his  name  passed  swiftly  forward  from 
lip  to  lip.  When  he  rode  within  the  circle  of  yel- 
low light  and  dismounted  before  the  door  above 
which  swung  the  sign  of  the  vulture,  his  coming 
was  greeted  by  an  uproarious  cheering,  in  the 
midst  of  which  he  could  distinguish  loud  cries 
of  "Long  Uve  King  Richard  IV!" 

360 


A  VISION  IN  THE  FOREST 

Lord  Bishop  Kennedy  was  even  then  await- 
ing the  young  knight's  arrival,  welcoming  him 
after  a  courteous,  formal  and  dignified  fashion. 
The  Lord  Bishop  laid  command  upon  one  of  his 
lieutenants;  after  which,  in  almost  the  flutter  of 
an  eyelid,  the  noise  of  talking  hushed,  the  lighted 
torches  vanished,  and,  when  the  dwindling  sound 
of  hoof  beats  had  died  away,  the  tavern  resumed 
its  wonted  somber  and  solitary  aspect. 

Zenas  spread  table  in  the  cozy  warmth  of  the 
chimney  side,  where  Bishop  Kennedy  and  Sir 
Richard  took  sup  and  drink  together.  Since  his 
first  sight  of  the  tavern  the  young  knight  had 
invested  it  within  his  mind  with  an  atmosphere 
of  dark  lugubriousness ;  thus  was  his  surprise  all 
the  more  great  when,  upon  Zenas  clearing  table, 
the  dessert  was  borne  in  by  a  silvery-haired 
woman  of  a  most  refined  and  motherly  air,  whom 
Lord  Kennedy  introduced  as  grandam  Suther- 
land. 

"It  doth  astonish  me,"  said  Lord  Kennedy, 
when  she  had  gone  from  the  room,  "how  the  good 
grandam  hath  preserved  her  sweetness  of  tem- 
per throughout  all  these  years  of  turmoil  and 
dangers.  It  was  the  saddest  of  haps  to  her  when 

361 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

the  young  prince  died — she  was  like  the  gentlest 
of  mothers  to  him  withal." 

"And  the  young  maiden  must  e'en  have  been 
a  sore  burdensome  care,"  Sir  Richard  suggested. 

"Why,"  quoth  Lord  Kennedy,  "she,  sire,  is  the 
most  noble,  amiable,  and  pretty-mannered  of  all 
young  maidens  I  have  ever  known." 

It  was  the  first  scintilla  of  emotion  Sir  Rich- 
ard had  observed  displayed  by  Bishop  Kennedy. 
His  championship  certainly  appeared  genuine. 
The  young  knight  gathered  that  the  goodman 
was  not  particularly  well  acquainted  with  her 
volatile  tempers.  He  bethought  him  also  that  it 
would  ill  become  him  to  speak  belittlingly  of  one 
who,  by  now,  was  doubtless  become  his  dearest 
friend's  wife.  He  made  shift,  therefore,  to  take 
up  another  subject,  and  one  that  for  long  had 
been  a  sore  weight  upon  his  mind. 

"My  lord,"  said  he;  "an  thou  wouldst  consent 
to  enlighten  my  understanding  of  the  mysteries 
surrounding  this  tavern  wherein  we  sit,  I  would 
consider  it  right  kind  of  thee." 

"In  respect  of  what,  sire?"  he  asked,  between 
sippings  of  his  wine. 

"An  it  be  not  a  fantasy,"  said  Sir  Richard, 
362 


A  VISION  IN  THE  FOREST 

"when  I  first  tarried  beneath  its  roof  it  was  surely 
three  days'  journey  removed  from  where  it  now 
stands." 

Bishop  Kennedy  answered  not  by  word  of 
mouth,  but,  clapping  together  his  hands,  sum- 
moned Zenas  and  bade  him  to  fetch  them  a 
lighted  torch.  Then,  leading  the  way  through 
the  rear  door,  he  depressed  the  blazing  rush- 
light till  it  revealed  a  great  hole  in  that  which 
had  appeared  to  be  a  solid  foundation  of  stone. 
Its  rays  discovered  to  Sir  Richard  a  pair  of  broad 
and  heavy  wheels  set  firmly  beneath  the  tavern 
sill. 

"Let  these  clear  away  that  mystery,  sire,"  Ken- 
nedy said.  "There  are  seven  more  similarly  dis- 
posed beneath  the  building,  which  is  parlous 
lightly  set  up.  By  the  dual  aid  of  long,  dark 
nights,  and  a  multitude  of  tugging  horses,  the 
Red  Tavern  became  soon  a  weird  and  haunted 
thing ;  moving  magically  from  place  to  place,  dis- 
cussed in  lowered  whispers  by  the  yeomanry,  and 
shunned  by  passing  wayfarers.  Thus,  not  alone 
was  the  lamented  prince  afforded  a  safe  asylum, 
comparatively  free  from  the  dangers  of  discov- 
ery, but  we  were  provided  as  well  with  a  meeting 

363 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

place  for  the  captains  of  our  gathering  hosts. 
It  has  served  right  happily  its  purpose,  sire ;  and 
I  would  that  my  life  had  been  as  useful  to  those 
about  me.  Now  its  work  is  done.  Eftsoons  its 
blazing  timbers  shall  proclaim  a  new  light  to  a 
tyrant-darkened  people." 

After  that  he  took  his  leave  to  join  the  army, 
which  was  stationed  some  nine  miles  to  the  east- 
ward upon  the  shores  of  the  sea. 

By  now  the  moon,  a  pallid  disc,  was  sailing 
high  in  the  greenish-blue  heavens.  Feeling  the 
need  of  an  hour  or  two  of  solitude  wherein  to 
meditate  upon  the  wonders  by  which  Sir  Richard 
discovered  himself  to  be  surrounded,  and,  if  pos- 
sible, to  reconcile  his  vacillating  mind  with  the 
new  complexion  which  the  face  of  the  world  had 
turned  upon  him,  he  gathered  his  cloak  about  his 
shoulders  and  walked  alone  into  the  forest.  Once 
there,  he  laid  himself  down  upon  the  soft,  dry 
carpet  of  pine  needles,  and  resigned  his  thoughts 
to  the  ineffable  delights  of  fantastical  castle- 
building. 

How  long  Sir  Richard  lay  thus,  with  his  face 
upturned  to  the  sky,  he  had  no  means  of  know- 
ing. It  seemed  that  his  eyes  began  playing  a 

364 


A  VISION  IN  THE  FOREST 

kind  of  game  with  the  interwoven  branches  of  the 
trees  and  the  moon.  Then  he  fell  into  a  sort  of 
doze,  where  everything  withdrew  into  a  haze  of 
oblivion  till  the  moment  he  became  suddenly  con- 
scious that  his  ears  were  being  ravished  by  the 
strains  of  a  charming  melody.  For  quite  a  space 
he  remained  like  one  dreaming;  passively  drink- 
ing in  each  sweet,  pure  and  quivering  note.  He 
was  dimly  aware  that  this  same  glorious  voice 
had  been  for  days  and  days  singing  its  wonderful 
song  of  love  to  him. 

Then,  like  a  flashing  of  intense  light,  it  came 
upon  Sir  Richard  that  this  was  the  voice  which 
he  had  heard  steal  out  upon  the  night  at  the  mo- 
ment when  Tyrrell,  Zenas,  and  he  were  burying 
the  dead  hound. 

Cautiously  getting  to  his  feet,  and  dodging 
warily  from  tree  to  tree,  he  made  his  way  in  the 
direction  whence  the  voice  seemed  to  be  coming. 

As  he  ever  after  regarded  it,  all  of  the  adven- 
tures through  which  he  had  passed,  and  which 
are  here  set  down,  were  but  the  prelude  to  the 
vision  of  fair  loveliness  which  suddenly  presented 
itself  to  his  dazzled  eyes. 

With  her  arm  linked  within  that  of  the  silvery- 
365 


THE  RED  TAVERN 

haired  old  lady,  she  was  walking  slowly  along 
the  forest  road,  her  head  uplifted  in  song.  It 
seemed  to  Sir  Richard  that  the  soft  moonlight 
enveloped  her  lovingly,  imparting  to  her  won- 
drous beauty  an  essence  of  unreality.  The  gol- 
den nimbus  encompassing  her  head  added  im- 
measureably  to  the  impression  that  he  was  but 
gazing  upon  an  ephemeral  picture, — fairy- 
painted — the  which  must  become  soon  a  floating 
radiance  above  the  roadway  and  then  blend  in- 
sensibly with  the  air  before  his  captive  eyes. 

Silently  the  young  knight  stood  there,  with 
the  better  part  of  him  going  out  to  vie  with  the 
silvery  moonbeams  in  tenderly  caressing  her. 
That  grosser  portion  of  him  stationed  beneath 
the  tree  remained,  as  though  hewn  in  stone  and 
clutching  deep  into  the  rough  bark,  till  the 
maiden  turned  to  retrace  her  way  into  the  tavern. 
When  she  had  gone  he  rushed  madly  back,  steal- 
ing furtively  to  the  rear  of  the  building,  and 
tremblingly  tore  open  the  covering  of  Isabel's 
packet. 

In  it  was  the  cutting  of  saffron  velvet. 

Then,  impatiently  biding  his  time  till  they 
should  again  draw  nigh,  he  sauntered  around 

366 


A  VISION  IN  THE  FOREST 

the  corner  of  the  building  with  his  gaze  fastened 
upon  the  moon.  He  could  have  made  oath  that 
he  saw,  first,  a  dozen  of  them,  and  then  none 
at  all. 

"Give  thee  a  fair  good-night,  dame  Suther- 
land," Sir  Richard  said  in  an  agitated  voice,  "art 
thou,  too,  enjoying  the  moon?" 

The  grandam  dropped  him  a  pretty  curtsy, 
the  while  the  other  stood  with  drooping  and 
averted  head. 

"Thank  thee  much,  sire;  I  am,"  the  old  lady 
gave  him  answer. 

"  'Tis  a  bonnie  night,  i'  faith." 

"Yes,  sire,  'tis,"  curtsying  again. 

"And  the  moon — 'tis  extraordinary  bright?" 

"Yes,  sire,  'tis,"  curtsying  once  more. 

"I  trust  the  .  .  .  young  lady — may  not  suffer 
an  indisposition  from  the  dank  airs?" 

"We  have  grown  accustomed,  sire,"  with  an- 
other curtsy. 

Sir  Richard  noted  for  the  first  time  that  the 
aged  grandam's  head,  as  well  as  that  of  her  beau- 
tiful young  companion,  was  uncovered. 

"Yet  .  .  .  'tis  parlous  dank,"  said  he,  edging 
between  them  and  the  door. 

367 


"I  have  the  honor  to  present  to  thy  august  no- 
tice, sire,  my  beloved  granddaughter — Rocelia 
Tyrrell,"  dame  Sutherland  yielded. 

Sir  Richard  knew  not  what  he  answered.  He 
took  her  hand,  he  remembered  afterward,  turned 
instantly  light-headed,  and  made  out  to  salute  it 
rather  awkwardly  with  his  lips. 

When  the  young  knight  came  to  himself  he 
was  intently  watching  the  door  through  which 
Rocelia  had  disappeared. 

"I  wonder  whether  her  robe  was  of  a  color  saf- 
fron?" he  kept  mentally  repeating  over  and  over 
again. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

OF    HOW    SIR    RICHARD    PLAYED    THE    KING 
IN   HIS   LITTLE   KINGDOM 

SIR  RICHARD  broke  his  fast  in  the  main 
room  below,  sitting  by  the  fire  in  the 
broad  chimney.  He  concluded  that  the 
chamber  to  which  he  had  been  assigned  upon  the 
first  night  of  his  visit  to  the  Red  Tavern  was 
now  surrendered  to  the  uses  of  the  ladies ;  it  being 
the  only  one,  so  far  as  he  could  see,  that  could 
boast  of  a  coating  of  mortar.  The  walls  of  the 
remaining  rooms  abounded  in  cracks  and  cran- 
nies, the  which  admitted  the  chill  blasts  in  dis- 
comforting volumes.  To  the  weary  young 
knight,  the  roaring  blaze  by  the  table's  side  was 
a  most  agreeable  accompaniment  to  a  very  ex- 
cellent repast.  Often  afterward  it  recurred  to 
Sir  Richard  that  he  ate  during  that  day  because 
of  an  habitual  predilection  to  line  his  inwards. 
In  solemn  truth,  however,  the  wine  set  before 
him  seemed  without  hint  of  zest  or  bouquet,  and 

369 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

the  toothsome  viands  provided  by  Zenas  might 
as  well  have  been  so  much  sawdust  for  all  the 
taste  that  Sir  Richard  got  out  of  them  withal. 

With  the  sun  drawing  toward  the  zenith,  the 
earth  warmed  into  a  semblance  of  balminess,  and 
the  young  knight  loitered  about  outside  in  the 
hope  that  Rocelia  would  walk  out  presently  to 
take  the  air.  It  entered  Sir  Richard's  whirling 
head  that  the  hunchback  had  divined  the  cause 
of  his  excessive  restlessness;  the  which  the  im- 
petuous young  knight  resented  by  soundly 
tongue-lashing  the  fellow.  He  scarce  answered 
Sir  Richard  a  word,  but  received  his  acrimonious 
outburst  with  queer  leers,  and  winks,  and  know- 
ing smiles.  The  young  knight  was  fair  tempted 
to  take  the  flat  of  his  sword  to  him. 

"I  fear  me  much  that  Isabel  has  soured  thy 
accustomed  sweet  temper  .  .  .  sire,"  Zenas  said, 
with  an  intonation  that  was  unmistakably  satiri- 
cal. The  young  knight  noted  that  this  was  the 
first  occasion  upon  which  the  crook-back  had 
actually  avowed  him  sovereign. 

"Ah!  and  right  willingly  would  I  play  the 
king,"  Sir  Richard  thought,  "an  I  could  but 
wield  empire  over  one  dear  subject.  And  why 

370 


IN  HIS  LITTLE  KINGDOM 

not,  forsooth?"  his  ruminations  carried  him 
along.  "By'r  Lady!  who's  to  prevent  me  from 
asserting  my  sovereignty  by  commanding  this 
young  woman  to  be  summoned  into  my  pres- 
ence?" 

It  was  as  Sir  Richard  was  striding  toward  the 
tavern  door  to  carry  out  his  mad  project  that 
he  glimpsed  Rocelia  through  an  upper  window. 
She  looked  out  upon  him,  inclining  her  head  and 
smiling.  Deferentially  Sir  Richard  doffed  his 
helm,  his  courage  vanishing  from  him  like  rime 
on  a  mid- August  day.  The  young  knight  noted 
that  she  was  wearing  a  gown  of  saffron  velvet. 

Then,  quickly  entering  the  tavern,  Sir  Rich- 
ard commanded  Zenas  to  fetch  him  ink,  paper 
and  a  quill.  "Henceforth,"  said  he  to  himself, 
"I'll  surely  play  the  king;  and  here  shall  be  my 
kingdom."  But  he  made  up  his  mind  to  temper 
his  rule  in  the  meantime  with  somewhat  of  diplo- 
macy and  cunning. 

"Summon  Harold  hither,"  said  he  to  the 
hunchback;  "I'll  have  speech  of  him." 

Directing  the  note  which  he  then  wrote  jointly 
to  dame  Sutherland  and  Rocelia,  he  gave  it  into 
the  foot-boy's  hands  and  bade  him  to  deliver  it 

371 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

at  their  door.  Then,  going  outside,  he  directed 
the  groom  to  trap  his  stallion;  whereupon  he 
started  swiftly  northward  along  the  forest  road. 
Glancing  backward  as  he  swept  around  the  point 
of  the  brae,  Sir  Richard  was  pleased  to  discover 
both  of  the  ladies  at  the  window  waving  him  their 
adieux. 

It  was  well  along  in  the  afternoon  when  the 
young  knight  arrived  at  the  inn  where  Tyrrell 
was  lying.  Stretching  east  and  west  from  the 
little  building  were  long,  double  lines  of  white 
tents.  The  inn-keeper  had  established  him  a 
tap-room  in  the  stable,  the  which  was  crowded 
with  boisterous,  brawling  soldiers.  It  reminded 
Sir  Richard  of  another  Babel,  so  varied  were  their 
manners  of  speech. 

Within  the  tavern,  however,  all  was  orderly 
and  quiet,  with  a  strong  reek  of  medicines  in 
every  corner.  For  long  the  young  knight  seated 
himself  by  Tyrrell's  bed,  the  while  Sir  James 
stormed  and  raved  in  a  frightful  delirium  of 
fever;  cursing  King  Richard  III.;  describing  the 
horrible  tortures  to  which  his  brother  had  been 
put;  condemning  Henry  for  a  base  usurper,  and 
railing  against  Douglas  and  his  traitorous  de- 

372 


IN  HIS  LITTLE  KINGDOM 

faction.  It  must  have  been  a  full  hour  before 
his  mind  merged  into  a  brief  period  of  calm  san- 
ity. Coolly  then  he  counted  the  pulsings  of  his 
heart,  whereupon  he  told  the  young  knight  that 
he  was  sore  feeble.  'Twill  be  a  week  at  least," 
he  said,  "ere  the  fever  shall  have  run  its 
course.  If  I  am  alive  after  that,  perchance  I 
might  come  safely  through."  He  looked  at  the 
young  knight  askance  when  Sir  Richard  spoke 
to  him  of  Rocelia,  but  gave  him  a  word  of  cheer 
to  deliver  to  her.  The  young  knight  remained  by 
Tyrrell's  side  till  again  the  fever  gripped  him; 
then  took  his  way  downstairs,  bestrode  his  stal- 
lion, and  clipped  it  along  the  pass  toward  his 
little  kingdom. 

They  must  have  been  barkening  eagerly  for 
his  coming,  for  Sir  Richard  found  the  women 
both  awaiting  him  in  the  main  room. 

"How  noble  it  is  of  thee,  sire,"  said  Rocelia 
sweetly,  when  Sir  Richard  had  repeated  her 
father's  message,  "to  bethink  thee  of  our  grave 
anxiety.  How  can  we  ever  requite  thee?" 
Whereupon  she  cast  upon  Sir  Richard  a  shy 
glance  that  repaid  him  upon  that  instant  an  hun- 
dred fold. 

373 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

The  which,  however,  did  not  prevent  the  young 
knight  from  saying:  "By  bearing  me  company 
at  table,  dear  Rocelia.  I  have  been  dooms  lonely 
these  two  days  gone." 

Sir  Richard  noted  that  Rocelia  looked  ap- 
pealingly  toward  her  grandam ;  and,  by  the  same 
token,  so  did  the  young  knight.  But  not  appeal- 
ingly,  withal.  He  was  not  unmindful  at  that  mo- 
ment that  he  was  indeed  playing  the  king. 

Sir  Richard  never  afterward  forgot  that  meal 
in  the  vague,  warm  light  of  the  chimney-corner; 
with  Rocelia,  in  a  rose-glow  of  maidenly  con- 
fusion, seated  where  he  could  feast  his  eyes  upon 
the  delicate  transitions  of  expression  upon  her 
beautiful  countenance.  She  was  garbed  in  the 
robe  a  cutting  of  which  was  even  then  resting 
against  his  much  disturbed  heart,  though  the 
young  knight  lacked  the  resolution  to  tell  her  so. 
Perhaps  she  knew  it  though,  he  thought.  Where- 
upon he  became  quite  intoxicated  with  the  knowl- 
edge that  there  existed  between  them  a  bond  of 
secret  understanding.  They  talked,  God  knows 
of  what,  he  never  knew.  The  dame  had  fallen 
into  a  doze  upon  one  of  the  high-backed  benches, 
for  which  blessing  the  young  knight  offered 

374 


IN  HIS  LITTLE  KINGDOM 

thanks  to  Morpheus.  It  gave  them  a  good  hour 
more  together  than  they  should  likely  otherwise 
have  had. 

Soon  after  that  the  good  dame  snored  loudly 
once  or  twice  and  then  awakened  suddenly  from 
the  noise  of  it.  She  rose  immediately  and  begged 
permission  to  retire. 

"Dost  thou  not  take  the  sun  and  air  of  the 
morning?"  Sir  Richard  asked  Rocelia  when  they 
were  about  to  leave. 

"When  the  men  are  not  here,  and  good 
grandam  is  not  suffering  of  a  gout,"  she  an- 
swered. "I  do  so  enjoy  to  wander  through  the 
forest,  sire." 

"Then,"  said  Sir  Richard,  "upon  the  morrow, 
wilt  suffer  me  to  be  thy  escort  upon  such  an  ex- 
cursion?" 

There  followed  then  a  second  triangular  duel 
of  the  eyes.  The  result  was  similarly  happy  with 
the  first. 

Sir  Richard  went  contented  and  singing  to  his 
bed. 

For  several  glory-filled  days  thereafter  it 
would  be  a  walk  with  Rocelia  in  the  morning 
through  the  forest  glades ;  after  which  the  young 

375 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

knight  would  ride  northward  to  seek  tidings  of 
her  father's  condition.  Times  there  were  when 
it  seemed  impossible  that  he  could  recover.  But, 
on  the  eighth  day,  Sir  Richard  found  him  wholly 
rational  and  well  quit  of  his  fever. 

He  would  soon  be  upon  his  feet  now,  he  told 
the  young  knight,  in  a  weak  whisper.  After  that 
they  would  set  out  for  Wales,  he  said,  gathering 
their  forces  along  the  way,  and  then  march  down 
on  London.  Sir  Richard  was  in  no  mind  to  say 
him  yea  or  nay;  his  thoughts  being  every  one 
upon  Rocelia.  When  Tyrrell  learned  of  the 
young  knight's  daily  ride  to  his  sick-bed  he  ren- 
dered him  the  heartiest  of  thanks. 

'Tis  indeed  seldom,  sire,"  he  said,  "that  an 
humble  servant  is  permitted  the  satisfaction  of 
laboring  for  a  grateful  king." 

Tyrrell  was  once  again  become  the  shrewd  and 
wily  politician. 

Sir  Richard  remembered  that  all  the  way 
homeward  (he  called  it  home  within  his  mind, 
it  being  the  only  place  worthy  of  the  name  of 
which  he  knew),  his  heart  was  singing  a  merry 
lay  within  his  breast,  because  of  the  good  news 
he  was  carrying  to  Rocelia. 

376 


IN  HIS  LITTLE  KINGDOM 

What  a  joyous  evening  it  was  they  spent  to- 
gether, sitting  at  the  table  in  the  chimney-side 
with  Dame  Sutherland  soundly  sleeping  upon 
the  bench!  Sir  Richard  insisted  that  Rocelia 
hum  over  song  after  song  for  him;  the  which 
she  did,  trilling  them  low  and  sweet.  At  length 
she  struck  upon  the  one  for  which  he  had  been 
waiting;  the  song  he  had  heard  steal  out  upon 
that  lonely  night  when  he  was  engaged  with  Sir 
James  and  Zenas  in  the  task  of  burying  the 
hound. 

When  she  had  finished  the  last  note  Sir  Rich- 
ard told  her  of  the  weird  circumstances  surround- 
ing his  first  acquaintance  with  it. 

Thereupon,  for  the  first  time,  the  young  knight 
made  bold  to  tell  her  that  he  had  ever  since  that 
night  carried  that  same  song  within  his  memory 
— and  a  certain  cutting  of  saffron  velvet  next  his 
heart  ( forgetting  to  mention,  however,  that  part 
of  the  time  when  he  had  worn  it  above  his 
eye). 

"Ah!  sire,"  said  Rocelia,  "can  it  be  that  it  is 

thou "  and  then  she  paused  with  lips  all  of 

a  quiver,  her  fair  head  turned  toward  the  glowing 
fire. 

377 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

"Why!"  said  Sir  Richard,  "and  did  you  not 
know,  dear  Rocelia,  that  since  that  night  I  have 
been  avowed  champion  of  yours?" 

"Sire " 

"Call  me  not  sire,  dear.  Name  me  Richard," 
the  young  knight  whispered,  trying  vainly  to  im- 
prison her  hand.  "God  wot,  an  you  still  wish 
to  leave,  I  will  bear  me  away  this  time  the  proper 
maiden!" 

"Then  .  .  .  was  it  indeed  thou,"  Rocelia  whis- 
pered, half  weeping,  half  laughing,  "who  bore 
away  my  cousin  Isabel?" 

"Did  you  not  know?"  said  Sir  Richard. 

"I  but  knew  that  she  had  gone  .  .  .  with  some 
knight,  I  thought  it  was  .  .  .  and  that  it  had 
been  her  choice  to  go.  She  was  ever  unhappy 
after  we  came  from  London.  Oh !  sire  . . .  much 
do  I  regret  that  thou  hast  been  made  the  target 
of  one  of  her  mad  pranks." 

"Let  me  but  once  hear  Richard  on  your  lips, 
Rocelia,"  pleaded  the  young  knight. 

"I  dare  not,"  said  she,  with  an  affrighted 
glance  toward  her  sleeping  grandam. 

"I  lay  command  upon  you,"  said  Sir  Richard 
feigning  to  be  stern. 

378 


IN  HIS  LITTLE  KINGDOM 

"Well,  then  .  .  .  Richard,"  said  she  in  the 
softest  of  whispers. 

Silence  for  a  space. 

"It  seems,"  said  the  young  knight  then,  smil- 
ing, "that  I  have  been  victim  of  every  mad-cap 
prank  and  conspiracy  in  all  Scotland.  What 
quip  was  this  of  Isabel's?" 

"I  should  not  have  known,  sire " 

"Richard,"  the  young  knight  corrected  her 
gently. 

"Thou  saidst  but  once  .  .  .  Richard,"  she 
whispered,  smiling.  "I  should  not  have  known,  I 
say,  had  it  not  been  for  the  piece  of  cloth  snipped 
out  of  my  robe.  I  was  sleeping  when  she  sent 
it  through  the  wall." 

"And  the  note — said  she  something  of  a  note, 
Rocelia?"  Sir  Richard  asked. 

"No,  nothing,  sire." 

"Then  here  it  is,"  said  he,  diving  into  the 
leathern  pouch  hanging  at  his  baldric  and  laying 
the  scrap  of  paper  before  Rocelia  upon  the  ta- 
ble top.  The  while  she  was  reading  it  Sir  Rich- 
ard got  him  out  the  cutting  of  velvet. 

"And  here  is  the  other,"  he  said,  laying  the 
crumpled  bit  of  cloth  beside  the  note,  which  by 

379 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

now  Rocelia  had  finished  reading.  "This  may 
go  to  feed  the  blaze,"  he  added  with  a  light  laugh, 
tossing  the  note  into  the  fire.  "The  other  .  .  . 
may  I  have  it  now  from  thy  dear  hand  ?  I  would 
renew  my  knightly  vows." 

"But  thou  art  now  a  king  .  .  .  and  may  not," 
she  gave  Sir  Richard  answer,  he  thought  in  a 
tone  and  manner  of  sadness  and  regret.  Sud- 
denly she  took  it  up  then  and  thrust  it  quickly 
within  the  lace  at  her  bosom. 

"But  I  am  not  a  king,  Rocelia  ...  or  ever 
shall  be,"  Sir  Richard  protested.  "That  bit  of 
yellow  cloth  it  was  that  kept  me  posting  back 
and  forth  above  this  barren,  dreary  country.  It 
drew,  and  held  me  willing  prisoner  here.  Now  I 
have  lost  it.  To-morrow  I  will  go." 

"But,  no!"  said  she,  "how  canst  thou  leave 
when  everything  is  waiting?  Already  hast  thou 
been  proclaimed." 

"Everything  was  waiting  before  I  came,"  he 
answered.  "When  I  am  gone  'twill  be  as  though 
Richard  Rohan  had  never  been.  As  to  the  procla- 
mation .  .  .  'twas  but  a  thing  of  empty  words. 
I  played  the  king  here,  because  thou  wert  of  my 
kingdom.  An  I  have  not  thee  for  subject,  I  am 

380 


IN  HIS  LITTLE  KINGDOM 

no  longer  monarch.  To-morrow,  I  say,  I  take 
my  leave  of  Scotland." 

"But,  pray  you,  not  to-morrow  . . .  Richard," 
cried  Rocelia  aloud,  clutching  at  the  cloth  upon 
the  table. 

There  was  a  look  in  her  eyes  that  brought  the 
young  man  bounding  to  his  feet.  He  had  meant 
to  gather  her  within  his  arms.  But  he  swiftly  in- 
terpreted her  frightened  backward  glance  in  suf- 
ficient season  to  transform  the  gesture  into  a 
sweeping  bow. 

Grandam  Sutherland  had  but  just  awakened, 
and  was  blinking  at  the  two  after  a  confused 
fashion.  She  had  been  aroused  by  Rocelia's  cry. 

"God's  mercy  upon  us!"  exclaimed  the  old 
lady;  "it  must  be  near  upon  the  stroke  of  eleven?" 

"An  the  weather  hold,  we'll  walk  to-morrow 
morning?"  said  Sir  Richard,  taking  Rocelia's 
hand. 

"To-morrow  morning,  sire,"  she  answered, 
softly  pressing  his  fingers. 

The  young  knight  slept  no  wink  that  night  be- 
cause of  the  tender  caress. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

OF  THE  END  OF   THE  RED  TAVERN  AND  ITS 
FITTING    EPITAPH 

A  SCORE  of  times  during  the  next 
morning  Sir  Richard  berated  the  sun 
for  a  laggard  orb.  When  he  was  not 
stationed  in  front  of  his  narrow  window  gazing 
out  upon  the  reddening  sky,  the  filmy  rags  of 
undulating  mist  floating  above  the  moor,  and  the 
round  summits  of  the  downs  blushing  rosily 
above  them,  he  would  be  polishing  up  his  gear 
and  industriously  brushing  the  kinks  out  of  his 
horse-hair  plume.  In  lieu  of  a  Venetian  glass, 
he  trimmed  his  beard  to  a  proper  point  by  re- 
flecting his  image  against  his  glittering  breast- 
plate, which  he  hung  from  a  nail  in  the  wall  be- 
side the  window. 

Zenas  was  but  just  kindling  a  fire  when  Sir 
Richard  came  down  into  the  main  room,  the  while 
the  hunchback  was  cursing  roundly  at  Harold 

382 


THE  END  OF  THE  TAVERN 

for  refusing  to  bring  in  more  logs.  It  was  their 
habit  to  begin  quibbling  the  moment  they  clapt 
eyes  upon  each  other.  Being  in  the  merriest  of 
tempers,  the  young  knight  soon  contrived  to 
straighten  out  their  quarrel,  posting  the  foot-boy, 
happily  whistling,  in  quest  of  an  armload  of 
wood.  He  even  succeeded  in  enticing  somewhat 
of  a  grin  into  the  sullen  visage  of  the  crook-back. 

"An  thou  canst  keep  me  in  this  gallant  hu- 
mor, sire,"  said  he,  "thou  mayst  buy  me  a  garb 
of  motley  and  call  me  thy  fool.  See !  this  twisted, 
gnarled  form  .  .  .  these  masque-like  features 
.  .  .  and  the  yellow  fang-teeth,  all  loose  and  tot- 
tering .  .  .  By'r  Lady!  sire,  they  were  a  right 
famous  complement  of  the  cap  and  bells,  quoth 
'a." 

"An  I  am  king,  good,  my  Zenas,"  said  Sir 
Richard,  "why,  thou  shalt  even  play  the  fool." 

"An  thou  be  ever  a  king  .  .  .  with  a  proper 
throne,"  said  he,  grinning  and  rubbing  his  hands 
together,  "then  I  am  a  fool.  These  be  parlous 
undertakings,  sire  .  .  .  parlous,  deadly  under- 
takings. An  I  mistake  not,  there'll  be  a  pretty 
row  of  poled  heads  on  London  Bridge  to  mark 
the  end." 

383 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

The  young  knight  had  it  on  his  tongue  to  tell 
him  that  there'd  be  no  heads  lopped  off  on  his 
behalf,  but  he  thought  better  of  it  and  remained 
silent. 

"And  the  appetite  .  .  .  the  appetite,  prithee," 
Zenas  went  on  croaking,  as  Sir  Richard  sat  be- 
side the  loaded  table,  idly  dreaming.  "  'Tis  a 
right  savory  pasty,  this,"  said  he,  cutting 
through  its  brown  covering. 

"I'll  have  naught  of  sup  now,  Zenas,"  the 
young  knight  said.  "But  keep  it  warm  . . .  may- 
hap later  I'll  be  an  hungered." 

Downing  a  goblet  of  canary,  to  calm  his  shak- 
ing inwards,  the  young  knight  went  outside.  Or- 
dering his  stallion  instantly  to  be  made  ready,  he 
galloped  madly  then  against  the  face  of  the  ris- 
ing sun,  hoping  in  this  manner  to  cool  his  heated 
temples. 

The  light  air  coming  into  his  nostrils,  the  swift 
moving  against  the  wind,  made  him  soon  feel 
like  a  puffed  giant  upon  a  pigmy  land;  an  en- 
chanted prince  upon  a  magic  road. 

Sir  Richard  must  have  ridden  after  this  fash- 
ion something  above  two  leagues.  Then  he  came 
suddenly  within  sight  of  the  sea,  which  rolled 

384 


THE  END  OF  THE  TAVERN 

vast  above  him,  like  a  shimmering  green  curtain 
hanging  pendant  from  the  sky.  Hull  down  on 
the  vague  horizon,  he  saw  a  ship  that  seemed  to 
be  making  from  the  coast. 

Upon  the  beach  there  remained  less  than  a 
score  of  tents  to  mark  the  encampment  of  an 
armed  host.  One  after  another,  as  he  looked, 
they  were  sinking  between  the  white  sand  dunes. 
Black  spots,  reminding  him  much  of  scurrying 
sand-crabs,  were  moving  hurriedly  in  and  about 
them. 

The  young  knight  rode  down  to  meet  a  solitary 
horseman  approaching  along  the  road.  Pres- 
ently, by  the  red  cross  flaming  out  of  a  white 
tunic,  he  made  out  that  it  was  Lord  Bishop  Ken- 
nedy. 

"Give  thee  a  good  morrow,  sire,"  the  Bishop 
called  out  to  Sir  Richard  as  they  drew  within 
hailing  distance.  "Thou  art  early  abroad,  I 
see?" 

The  young  knight  returned  his  salutation  and 
made  answer:  "Yes." 

"Our  forces  here,"  pursued  Kennedy,  as  Sir 
Richard  wheeled  and  rode  beside  him,  "are  now 
withdrawing  for  the  purpose  of  massing  above 

385 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

the  forest.  In  a  fortnight  Sir  James  will  belike 
be  able  to  sit  horse;  whereupon  we  shall  at  once 
begin  our  march  southward.  After  to-night,  but 
a  pile  of  charred  timbers  will  remain  to  tell  the 
tale  of  the  Red  Tavern.  And  right  happy  am  I 
withal  that  the  enterprise  doth  draw  to  a  point 
of  focus.  'Twill  mark  the  end  of  intrigue,  jeal- 
ousy, and  treachery;  the  beginning  of  war-like 
action." 

Conversing  in  this  wise,  they  drew,  at  length, 
within  sight  of  the  doomed  tavern.  The  young 
knight  glanced  upward  as  he  rode  toward  the 
door  and  saw  Rocelia  flash  away  from  the  win- 
dow as  she  observed  that  Sir  Richard  was  not 
riding  alone.  A  wave  of  ineffable  emotion 
surged  over  him  as  he  divined  that  she  had  been 
awaiting  his  return.  It  seemed  an  age  before 
Harold  came  to  relieve  him  of  his  horse. 

When  he  came  inside  Sir  Richard  saw  that  the 
table  was  as  he  had  left  it. 

"Lord  Kennedy  will  take  sup  with  thee,"  Ze- 
nas  told  him,  smiling  craftily  and  rubbing  his 
hands  together  the  while. 

"I  care  not  to  eat,"  said  the  young  knight. 
"Where's  Lord  Kennedy?" 

386 


THE  END  OF  THE  TAVERN 

"He  begged  of  thee  to  yield  him  but  a  moment 
till  he  had  speech  of  the  ladies,  sire." 

Wearing  a  countenance  as  impassive  as  that  of 
a  graven  image,  Lord  Kennedy  came  down  pres- 
ently and  said  that  the  maiden  was  suffering  of 
a  slight  indisposition  and  would  not  walk  with 
Sir  Richard  that  morning. 

There  was  an  appreciable  air  of  constraint 
about  him  which  revealed  to  the  young  knight  in- 
stantly that  something  was  gone  wrong.  He 
noted,  moreover,  Zenas'  smile  of  cunning  tri- 
umph, and  guessed  that  he  had  been  the  cause 
thereof. 

"I'll  have  it  from  her  own  lips,"  suddenly  de- 
clared Sir  Richard,  his  hand  upon  the  hilt  of  his 
blade. 

"Sire!" 

"Avaunt  with  thy  empty  titles!"  he  cried. 
"Dost  hear  me?  ...  I  have  said!" 

'Tis  impossible,"  said  Lord  Kennedy,  sternly, 
albeit  his  manner  was  of  the  quietest. 

"Was  that  truly  her  message?"  asked  Sir 
Richard. 

"It  was,"  said  Kennedy,  opening  him  coolly 
an  egg. 

387 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

"Setting  thy  bishop's  mitre  aside,"  said  the 
young  knight  quietly,  "I  say  that  thou  liest  in 
thy  throat,  an  this  be  the  maiden's  answer!" 

With  a  bound,  which  overturned  his  chair  and 
brought  the  litter  of  the  table-top  crashing  upon 
the  floor,  Lord  Kennedy  was  on  his  feet,  his 
naked  blade  flashing  before  Sir  Richard's  eyes. 

Kennedy,  with  the  play  of  blades,  was  like  a 
child  in  the  hands  of  the  young  knight.  There 
were  scarce  above  a  half  dozen  passes  before  his 
sword  went  humming  through  the  window,  tak- 
ing glass  and  sash  with  it  to  the  ground. 

Sir  Richard  turned  upon  hearing  a  sharp  cry 
in  the  direction  of  the  stair  door.  Rocelia,  all 
white  and  trembling  was  framed  within  its  case- 
ments. Thinking  alone  of  her,  he  started  for  the 
steps. 

"Sire,"  Lord  Kennedy  called  to  him. 

The  young  knight  wheeled.  With  tunic  split 
from  chin  to  skirt,  Bishop  Kennedy  was  standing 
in  the  middle  of  the  floor;  grave-faced,  ashen, 
but  wonderfully  calm. 

"I  have  turned  traitorous  sword  against  my 
king,"  he  said.  "Thou  owest  me  a  death,  sire." 

"Then  I'll  remain  ever  in  thy  debt,"  Sir  Rich- 
388 


THE  END  OF  THE  TAVERN 

ard  made  answer.  'Twas  the  fault  of  my  un- 
ruly tongue.  I  ask  thy  forgiveness,  Lord  Ken- 
nedy. And  now,  come,  Rocelia,"  he  said  to  the 
frightened  maiden,  "we'll  have  earned  our  walk." 

Thereupon  he  went  over  to  where  she  was 
standing,  placed  her  yielding  arm  within  his  and 
together  they  walked  through  the  outer  door. 

"One  word  with  thee,  sire,"  Lord  Kennedy 
called  after  them  when  they  had  started  for  the 
forest. 

"Thou  meanest  fair  by  that  maiden?"  he  said, 
when  Sir  Richard  came  back  to  the  door.  "She 
is  the  bonniest  in  all  Scotland,  sire,"  he  added, 
wdth  a  great  sincerity  of  tone. 

"Thou  hast  spoken  truth,  Lord  Kennedy,"  the 
young  knight  answered,  reaching  out  his  hand. 
"And,  sir,  by  the  cross  of  this,  my  sword,  I  would 
liefer  have  her  than  any  proffered  kingdom  atop 
of  earth." 

"And  thou  wouldst  certes  be  the  gainer,"  Ken- 
nedy answered.  "God  wot  how  this  may  end, 
sire,"  he  added,  shaking  his  head.  Then,  grasp- 
ing Sir  Richard's  hand  for  a  moment,  he  turned 
sadly  back  into  the  tavern  room. 

Before  setting  out  upon  their  walk  the  young 
389 


knight  summoned  Harold  to  him  and  laid  injunc- 
tion upon  him  to  trap  his  stallion,  the  jennet,  and 
a  third  palfrey  for  a  lady. 

"It  will  be  for  a  long  journey,  mayhap.  Lead 
them  so  quickly  as  may  be,"  he  told  him,  "along 
the  road  where  I  first  came  upon  you,  and  await 
there  my  coming." 

A  little  corner  within  the  wood  there  was  which 
Rocelia  and  Sir  Richard  had  come  to  look  upon 
as  all  their  own.  Thither  in  silence  they  took  their 
way.  Upon  reaching  there  she  sat  down  upon  a 
log,  leaning  her  back  against  a  tree;  whilst  the 
young  knight  disposed  himself  upon  the  moss  at 
her  feet. 

Rocelia's  eyes  bore  plain  evidence  that  she  had 
been  weeping.  Indeed  she  seemed  in  the  most 
melancholy  of  moods;  and,  when  Sir  Richard 
made  bold  to  comfort  her,  would  not  suffer  him 
even  to  take  her  hand.  Then  with  many  halts  and 
sighs  she  repeated  to  him  what  Bishop  Kennedy 
had  said  to  her.  Which,  in  effect,  was,  that  it 
would  be  wrong  for  them  to  be  another  time  alone 
together.  That  Sir  Richard,  being  the  lawful 
heir  to  the  crown,  must  have  a  care  of  the  pro- 
prieties, and  seek  companionship  among  those 

390 


THE  END  OF  THE  TAVERN 

who  were  his  equals.  All  this  and  much  more 
Rocelia  told  him,  bravely,  with  her  soft  eyes  look- 
ing1 sad  into  his;  her  sweet  lips  never  once  fal- 
tering from  the  difficult  task  imposed  upon  them. 

"But,"  said  Sir  Richard,  "did  I  not  swear  to 
you  last  night,  Rocelia,  that  I  would  never  be 
king?  I  am  seeking  now,  and  in  you,  dear,  a 
companion  through  life.  Whether  you  say  me 
yea  or  nay,  'twill  be  all  the  same.  I  mean  to 
leave  upon  this  very  day.  Will  you  not 
trust 

"Ah!  Richard,"  she  said,  sweetly,  "speak  not 
that  word.  All  trust  do  I  impose  in  you.  It  is 
not  that,  dear,"  laying  her  hand  lightly  upon  his 
bared  head;  "no,  'tis  not  that.  It  is  that  I — I 
love  you  too  well  and  dearly  to  assist  in  this  sac- 
rifice of  your  splendid  future.  No — no!  you 
must  not,  Richard  .  .  .  indeed,  you  must  not.  I 
may  never  lay  lips  upon  yours,  dear.  But,  may- 
hap, you  will  remember  me  for  a  while  as  a  sim- 
ple maid  who  dared  to  tell  you  that  she  loved  you ; 
and  who,  loving  you,  surrendered  you  to  her 
country  .  .  .  and  begged  you,  prayed  you  to  as- 
sert your  rightful  position  within  its  boundaries." 

"But  I  cannot,  Rocelia,"   Sir  Richard  pro- 
391 


THE   RED    TAVERN 

tested.  "Got  wot  an  I  despise  not  the  whole 
vile  conspiracy.  An  you'll  not  go  with  me,  I'll 
go  alone  .  .  .  and  with  a  heart  fair  breaking  for 
love  of  you.  Come!"  he  pleaded;  "let  me  bear 
you  away  out  of  this  turmoil-ridden  land  to  a 
place  of  safety,  and  peaceful  quiet,  and  content- 
ment." 

"Ah !  and  how  sweet  it  would  all  be,  my  dear," 
said  she,  allowing  Sir  Richard  to  take  and  keep 
her  hand,  but  keeping  him  firmly  at  a  distance 
withal.  "I  am  so  tired  of  it  all.  Naught  have  I 
known  but  strife  and  danger  since  I  came  out 
of  girlhood.  But,  ah,  no !  it  may  never  be.  'Tis 
your  duty,  Richard,  to  claim  your  own ;  and  mine 
to  prevail  upon  you  not  to  abandon  it.  Never 
let  it  be  said  that  my  champion  was  a  deserter 
of  his  colors." 

"I  held  faithfully  to  the  saffron  color,"  de- 
clared Sir  Richard,  "and,  i'  faith,  I'll  hold  to  it 
still." 

She  smiled  sadly,  stroking  his  hair. 

"But  these  other  colors,  Richard,"  said  she, 
"were  marked  upon  your  escutcheon  at  your 
birth.  You  may  not  desert  them." 

Sir  Richard  had  been  all  along  looking  up  into 
392 


THE  END  OF  THE  TAVERN 

Rocelia's  face.  He  dropped  his  head  disconso- 
lately when  she  set  him  in  the  light  of  a  deserter. 
He  never  knew  what  he  would  have  answered. 
He  knew  only  that  she  shrieked  suddenly  aloud 
and  drew  him  swiftly  close  to  her  bosom. 

"For  the  love  of  God,  dear  heart,  turn!"  she 
cried.  'Tis  Zenas  with  a  poniard!" 

The  young  knight  wheeled  in  time  to  see  the 
murderous  crook-back  plucking  his  long  blade 
from  the  earth,  where  it  had  buried  itself  to  the 
very  hilt  under  the  impetus  that  was  meant  to 
have  been  expended  upon  Sir  Richard's  body. 

In  another  moment  the  young  knight  had 
grappled  with  him;  and  then  they  went  rolling 
and  threshing  over  the  ground  in  the  throes  of  a 
deadly  encounter.  "God!  what  a  strength  is 
there  in  this  grossly  misshapen  body!"  Sir  Rich- 
ard thought,  and  though  he  kept  tight  hold  of 
the  hunchback's  knife  hand,  every  moment  Sir 
Richard  feared  that  he  would  succeed  in  turning 
the  blade  and  driving  it  home  in  his  neck.  So 
narrow  was  the  margin  between  the  young  knight 
and  death  withal,  that  once  the  keen  point  trav- 
eled across  his  throat  and  opened  a  slight  scratch. 

"You  will  kill  my  hound?  you  damned  sword- 
393 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

and-buckler  knight!"  Zenas  kept  hissing  in  Sir 
Richard's  ear.  "You  abominable  puppet,  you 
would  cheat  my  good  brother  of  his  head  to  set 
you  on  a  throne! — you  fustian,  lack-linen  pre- 
tender!— you  flap-dragon  tippler! — I'll  send  you 
whirling  straight  to  hell,  an  I  get  me  this  poniard 
home!" 

It  happened  by  the  merest  stroke  of  fortune 
that,  in  their  furious  tumbling  about,  the  hunch- 
back's head  struck  with  a  great  violence  against 
the  log  whereupon  Rocelia  had  been  sitting.  His 
forbidding  form  grew  instantly  limp  and  insen- 
sible, and  the  young  knight  leaped  quickly  to  his 
feet.  A  drop  or  two  of  blood  was  trickling  down 
his  breast-plate  from  the  scratch  across  his  neck. 

The  moment  that  Sir  Richard  was  fairly  up 
Rocelia  was  in  his  arms,  with  her  lips  laid  close 
upon  his.  Then,  thrusting  him  impulsively  from 
her,  she  tore  open  her  cloak,  ripped  a  quantity 
of  lace  from  her  gown,  and  began  binding  it 
around  his  neck. 

"You'll  not  be  very  much  hurt,  Richard  .  .  . 
dear  Dick?"  said  she,  kissing  him  again. 

He  did  not  say  her  too  strong  a  nay  ( for  which 

he  was  soon  forgiven!),  for  Sir  Richard  dis- 

394 


THE  END  OF  THE  TAVERN 

covered  that  when  he  but  so  much  as  hesitated  he 
had  another  kiss. 

"Oh,  Richard,  my  love,"  said  Rocelia,  "take 
me  away.  I  understand  it  all  now — this  murder- 
ous treachery,  this  stabbing  in  the  back  .  .  . 
these  fearsome,  dark  conspiracies !  But  take  me, 
dear,  to  that  place  of  rest,  and  peace,  and  sweet 
contentment.  Even  now  I  am  ready." 

Thus,  with  his  arm  clasped  tight  about  her, 
they  sought  the  road  and  their  waiting  horses. 
Eftsoons  they  were  on  their  way,  taking  the  nar- 
rower road  to  the  left,  which  would  lead  them  the 
more  directly  to  the  hut  where  the  young  knight 
had  left  de  Claverlok. 

It  was  late  that  evening  when  they  drew  out 
of  the  deep  forest,  far  above  and  to  the  north- 
west of  their  starting  point. 

Many  leagues  behind  them,  and  rising  high 
into  the  heavens,  they  could  see  a  lurid  splotch  of 
light,  glowing  red  and  yellow  in  the  mystic  dark- 
ness. 

"  'Tis  the  end  of  the  Red  Tavern,"  said  Sir 
Richard. 

"Well,"  whispered  Rocelia,  "it  brought  you  to 
me,  dear  Richard." 

395 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

"And  to  me,  sweet  Rocelia,"  said  the  young 
knight  earnestly,  "it  brought  you." 

"Have  I  thy  permission  to  speak,  Sir  Rich- 
ard ?"  begged  Harold,  who  was  standing  by. 

"Certes,  you  have,  my  boy,"  replied  Sir  Rich- 
ard. 

"Then  let  me  wish  that  all  of  thy  troubles  shall 
be  as  the  smoke  of  it,"  said  Harold  earnestly. 

'Tis   a  fitting  epitaph,"   Rocelia  said,   her 
hand  stealing  within  that  of  the  young  knight. 

Then,  for  a  little  space,  they  stood  there  upon 
the  summit  of  the  hill,  watching  the  glare  of  the 
burning  tavern  fading  and  dying  away. 

"Yes  ...  a  most  fitting  epitaph,"  Sir  Rich- 
ard made  answer.  Whereupon  they  resumed 
their  journey  lightsomely,  happily,  northward. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

OF  HOW  A  FLEDGLING  DROPPED   FROM  THE 
CONSPIRATOR'S   NEST 

THE  happy  travelers  found  shelter  for 
that  night  in  the  kind  herdsman's  cot- 
tage where  Sir  Richard  had  tarried 
whilst  journeying  with  Isabel.  The  simple  folk 
displayed  a  quite  lively  surprise  upon  observing 
that  the  maid  with  whom  the  young  knight  was 
now  traveling  was  not  the  same.  Sir  Richard 
thought  that  mayhap  they  imagined  that  he  was 
engaged  upon  the  business  of  depopulating  Scot- 
land of  her  famous  beauties.  "There  is  just 
cause  for  such  a  supposition,  i'  truth,"  he  added 
to  himself. 

"I  ken  weel,"  the  good  man  said,  a  glint  of 
Scot's  humor  in  his  eyes,  "that  'e  braw  English 
laddies  be  unco  daft.  The  muckle  Auld  Hornie 
be  in  'e  all !  But  'e  hae  yin  bonnie  lassie  with  'e, 
now,  sir  knight  .  .  .  yin  muckle  cantie  jo!"  and 

397 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

with  that  he  winked  at  Sir  Richard  in  a  know- 
ing fashion. 

His  goodwife,  a  white-capped  dame,  busied 
herself  in  setting  before  them  a  "gigot"  and  a 
"bit  kebbuck";  which  translated  and  assimilated 
into  English  leg-o'-mutton  and  cheese.  Bear- 
ing well  in  mind  the  company  in  which  it  was 
eaten,  it  would  be  a  profanation  to  tell  how  thor- 
oughly the  young  knight  enjoyed  that  meal 
withal.  But  it  must  be  confessed  as  well  that 
the  mulled  ale  was  like  a  goblet  of  nectar  to  his 
palate. 

They  passed  a  long  and  happy  evening,  Ro- 
celia  and  Sir  Richard,  sitting  by  the  fire's  side 
beneath  the  smoke-browned  beams  of  the  low- 
ceilinged  kitchen.  Intently  she  listened,  with  her 
soft  eyes  bent  lovingly  upon  the  young  knight, 
the  while  he  recounted  the  adventures  through 
which  he  had  passed.  She  laughed  right  heartily 
when  he  came  to  that  part  of  his  tale  where  he 
had  rescued  her  cousin  Isabel  out  of  the  Red 
Tavern ;  and  told  him  how  bitterly  her  uncle  Ze- 
nas  had  misliked  her  cousin,  though  all  the  while 
standing  in  somewhat  of  fear  of  her  sharp 
tongue.  Rocelia  hacJ  known  of  but  three,  she 

398 


A  FLEDGLING  FROM  THE  NEST 

said,  who  had  ever  held  the  slightest  place  within 
Zenas'  morbid  affections.  Of  the  three,  she 
named  first  the  hound,  to  whose  life  Sir  Richard 
had  put  a  quietus  on  that  first  night;  then  her 
father;  and,  last,  herself.  "Revenge  and  jeal- 
ousy, I  make  no  doubt,  hath  armed  the  crook- 
back's  hand  against  thee,  dear,"  she  said. 

"Richard  .  .  .  dear  Dick,"  she  whispered 
afterward,  when  it  came  to  parting  for  the  night, 
"since  learning  of  all  these  base  intrigues,  these 
petty  jealousies,  these  crafty  plottings  and 
counter-plottings,  I  am  no  whit  sorry  to  see  you 
leaving  them  all  behind  you.  I  would  rather  that 
my  king  should  sit  ever  upon  a  three-legged 
stool  than  upon  a  velvet-tufted  and  silken-cano- 
pied throne  won  after  these  wicked  fashions." 

They  were  out  betimes  the  next  morning,  albeit 
the  day  was  none  of  the  pleasantest ;  a  thick  fog 
having  set  in  from  the  sea  during  the  night.  As 
they  moved  slowly  over  the  downs  Sir  Richard 
remarked  that  the  members  of  their  little  party 
seemed  like  gray  and  misty  shadows  moving 
against  a  pearly  cloud. 

Before  the  middle  of  the  day  they  drew  near 

the  little  hut  where  de  Claverlok  and  Isabel  would 

399 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

doubtless  be  waiting.  It  was  fair  blotted  out  in 
the  mist,  but  Sir  Richard  could  make  out  a  vague 
and  shadowy  form  sitting  desolate  upon  a  huge 
boulder  by  the  roadside.  Upon  a  nearer  ap- 
proach he  recognized  it  to  be  the  foot-boy 
Thomas.  When  he  caught  sight  of  the  approach- 
ing company  of  three  he  came  sliding  down  off 
the  boulder,  running  to  the  young  knight's  side 
and  embracing  his  greaved  leg  for  very  joy. 

"Oh,  sire!"  he  hoarsely  whispered,  "the  very 
devil's  to  pay  back  there,"  jerking  his  thumb 
above  his  shoulder. 

"And  now,  prithee,  what  is't?"  asked  Sir  Rich- 
ard. 

"Came  yester  morn,  sir,"  he  answered,  "a 
great,  tall,  bearded  knight, — with  the  two  points 
of  his  mustachios  turned  skyward  .  .  .  so, — 
vowing  that  he'd  bear  Mistress  de  Claverlok 
away  with  him  or  kill  everyone  in  the  place.  My 
worshipful  master  was  for  having  his  sword  at 
him  upon  the  instant  (and  he,  sire,  but  just  able 
to  be  out  of  his  bed) .  But  Mistress  de  Claver- 
lok bars  the  door  and  holds  the  murderous  knight 
without.  Even  I  may  not  be  admitted.  Hark 
ye!  ...  I  can  hear  him  cursing  even  now.  Thus 

400 


A  FLEDGLING  FROM  THE  NEST 

does  he  carry  on  all  the  day.  Why,  sire,  he  stuck 
the  good  doctor  from  Bannockburn  right  in  the 
middle  .  .  .  here,  sire  .  .  .  like  he  were  cutting 
him  a  cheese.  By  Saint  Peter!  but  'tis  a  parlous 
business!" 

"Said  you  his  name,  Thomas?" 

"He  called  himself  the  Renegade  Duke  -  .  - 
and  vowed  that  he  ate  sick  knights  for  break- 
fast. Mistress  Isabel  doth  mightily  strive  to  keep 
the  worshipful  master  indoors.  An  he  could,  he 
would  get  out,  sire,  and  have  him  pinned  like  the 
fat  doctor  from  Bannockburn." 

"Vowed  him  he  ate  sick  knights  for  break- 
fast, did  he?"  said  Sir  Richard  grimly.  "May- 
hap, then,  he'll  relish  a  well  one  for  dessert." 
Whereupon,  in  despite  of  Rocelia's  admonishing 
cry,  the  young  knight  spurred  into  the  mist 
toward  the  hut. 

He  saw  the  fellow  clambering  upon  his  sad- 
dle when  he  heard  Sir  Richard  drawing  near.  The 
moment  that  he  saw  who  was  riding  down  upon 
him,  the  craven  coward  set  spurs  against  his 
steed  and  made  off  at  the  top  of  his  bent  up  the 
steep  hill  and  quickly  was  swallowed  up  in  the 

fog. 

401 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

But  what  a  boisterously  glad  reunion  was  there 
when,  upon  Sir  Richard  halloaing  out  his  name, 
the  hut  door  was  unbarred  and  set  open! 

"By  the  mass,  Sir  Richard,  but  it  doth  might- 
ily comfort  me  to  clap  eyes  again  upon  thee  .  .  . 
eh!  Weak  as  I  am,  boy,  I'd  have  given  yon 
miscreant  somewhat  of  a  battle  .  .  .  eh.  But 
Isabel  would  e'en  padlock  the  door  and  thrust 
key  in  her  bosom  .  .  .  didst  thou  not,  Dame  de 
Claverlok?  But  tell  me,  Sir  Richard,  where  hast 
thou  been  the  while?" 

By  way  of  an  answer  Sir  Richard  went  back 
and  fetched  Rocelia  out  of  the  fog  cloud ;  where- 
upon the  two  maids  fell  into  a  rapturous  em- 
brace, shedding  some  happy  tears  whilst  Sir 
Richard  made  haste  to  explain  to  de  Claverlok 
the  case  in  which  they  stood. 

"Certes,  boy,  and  I  can  procure  thee  a  priest," 
shouted  de  Claverlok,  responding  to  a  whispered 
question  in  his  ear. 

Then;  "Thomas!  Thomas!"  he  bellowed;  "post 
you  hot-foot  to  the  goodman  who  tied  us  a  fine 
knot  the  week  gone.  Speed!  Avaunt,  boy! 
'Have  him  here  within  the  hour's  quarter  on  your 
horse's  back  .  .  .  Begone!" 

402 


A  FLEDGLING  FROM  THE  NEST 

"They'll  be  after  thee  .  .  .  God!  but  they'll 
not  let  thee  get  free  of  their  king-making 
clutches,  an  they  can  help.  We'll  be  ready  to 
journey  coast- ward,  Sir  Richard,  when  the  cere- 
mony is  over." 

Happily,  the  foot-boy  returned  soon  with  the 
monk,  whom  de  Claverlok  and  the  rest  succeeded 
in  persuading  to  do  office  at  Rocelia's  and  Sir 
Richard's  wedding,  placating  him  with  a  prom- 
ise of  another  ceremony  more  in  keeping  with 
the  dignity  of  the  Church  when  they  should  have 
arrived  at  Bretagne.  Besides  requiting  him 
quite  handsomely  for  that  day's  services,  they 
paid  him  to  have  masses  said  for  the  dead  doctor 
outside ;  providing  as  well  for  a  fitting  burial  of 
his  body. 

It  set  in  to  rain  before  the  company  of  six  was 
ready  to  start  for  Glasgow.  As  there  had  been 
even  now  too  much  precious  time  consumed,  they 
decided  to  brave  the  weather  and  be  at  once  upon 
their  way.  To  their  journey's  end  it  was  but 
something  above  five  leagues,  but  the  heavy  roads 
made  the  going  a  slow  and  difficult  task.  By 
stretching  a  tent-cloth  over  a  rude  frame,  upheld 
by  four  poles,  the  foot-boys  contrived  for  Isabel 

403 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

and  Rocelia  a  passing  shelter  from  the  rain, 
which  was  by  now  pelting  hard  and  steadily 
against  the  helmets  of  Sir  Richard  and  de 
Claverlok. 

They  had  ridden  after  this  cumbrous  fashion 
near  half  the  distance  when  Sir  Richard  thought 
he  heard  the  dull  rumbling  of  a  carriage  to  their 
rear.  Adventuring  the  hazard  of  a  hidden  bog, 
the  party  turned  aside  and  rode  upon  the  moor 
till  they  had  set  an  impenetrable  curtain  of  mist 
between  themselves  and  the  highway.  Leaving 
his  horse  in  Harold's  keeping  the  young  knight 
crept  back,  stationing  himself  behind  a  thick 
clump  of  gorse  growing  by  the  roadside. 

Accompanied  by  a  score  or  more  of  outriders 
streaming  water,  shedding  loud  curses,  and  flog- 
ging their  tired  mounts  for  everything  that  was 
in  them,  came  a  great  lumbering  coach  and  six, 
looming  gigantic  as  a  castle  in  the  weird  fog. 
As  it  passed  where  Sir  Richard  was  lying,  he 
noted  that  its  wheels  were  three  quarters  sunken 
in  the  deep  mud,  which  rolled  off  them  as  they 
turned  after  the  manner  of  a  miniature  cata- 
ract. 

"How  far,  sayst  thou,  it  will  be  from  Glas- 
404 


A  FLEDGLING  FROM  THE  NEST 

gow?"  He  heard  a  voice,  which  he  knew  well  for 
that  of  Douglas,  roaring  from  within  its  depths. 

"Said  I  not  that  they  would  be  after  thee,  Sir 
Richard  .  .  .  eh?"  de  Claverlok  observed  when 
the  young  knight  went  back  and  told  them  what 
he  had  seen. 

They  were  perforce  obliged  to  give  the  coach 
a  good  start,  for,  by  now,  the  mist  was  rapidly 
thinning;  and  they  durst  not  put  themselves 
within  sight  of  Douglas'  men.  Before  reaching 
the  gates  of  Glasgow  they  divided  their  little 
party  in  twain.  Three  entering  from  the  north, 
three  from  the  south,  with  an  arrangement  to 
foregather  at  King's  Dock,  upon  the  River 
Clyde.  It  was  decided  upon  that  Sir  Richard, 
having  nothing  to  do  within  the  town,  should 
make  his  way  at  once  to  the  harbor  and  seek 
berths  on  shipboard  for  France.  Whilst  de 
Claverlok  and  Isabel,  having  to  attend  to  the 
business  of  Isabel's  inheritance,  would  join  them 
later  at  the  river's  side. 

They  were  in  no  trouble  to  enter  the  town,  and 
made  shift  to  take  the  narrower  and  less  fre- 
quented streets  leading  to  the  water-front.  As 
they  were  riding  through,  Rocelia  pointed  to  a 

405 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

fellow,  garbed  in  the  Douglas  livery,  who  was 
nailing  a  proclamation,  writ  in  great,  glaring  let- 
ters, against  a  plank  fence. 

It  was  an  offer  of  a  reward  of  two  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds  for  Sir  Richard's  arrest  and 
detention ;  the  which  was  followed  by  a  neat  and 
accurate  description  of  his  person  and  apparel. 
Before  they  got  to  the  next  corner  there  were 
a  dozen  idlers,  with  mouths  agape,  standing  be- 
fore it  and  taking  it  in. 

Knowing  well  that  Sir  Richard's  chances  of 
getting  safely  away  were  diminishing  in  pro- 
portion with  the  number  of  placards  that  were 
being  then  posted  over  the  town,  they  made  all 
haste  to  reach  the  river  and  get  safely  aboard 
ship. 

Without  mishap  our  travelers  came  anon  to 
King's  Dock.  Sir  Richard  was  most  gratified  to 
discover  that  there  was  a  great  ship,  above  which 
rose  three  towering  masts,  riding  at  anchor  in 
the  midst  of  the  harbor.  He  gazed  longingly 
across  at  her,  wishing  that  they  were  all  safe 
bestowed  upon  her  lofty  and  much  ornamented 
poop. 

Dismounting,  and  bidding  Harold  to  do  the 
406 


A  FLEDGLING  FROM  THE  NEST 

same  the  while  the  young  knight  lifted  Rocelia 
to  the  rough  paving  stones,  he  sent  them  both 
posting  into  a  tavern.  "The  sooner  we  draw 
free  of  the  streets  the  better,"  he  thought.  Beck- 
oning a  sailor  then,  who  was  watching  them  from 
the  quay,  Sir  Richard  handed  him  a  shilling  and 
told  him  to  tie  him  the  three  horses  in  a  dark  and 
narrow  alleyway  near  hand.  "I*  faith,  'twill  be 
the  last  I  shall  ever  see  of  them,"  he  said  to  him- 
self; and  not  without  a  feeling  of  regret  that 
he  would  never  again  bestride  the  strong  back 
of  his  faithful  stallion. 

"Where  can  I  find  me  the  captain  of  yonder 
ship  ?"  Sir  Richard  asked  of  the  sailor,  as  he  came 
slouching  out  of  the  dark  alleyway. 

"Thou'll  find  him  in  there — where  the  sack 
flows  thickest,"  the  sailor  answered,  pointing  to 
the  tavern  wherein  Rocelia  and  Harold  had  taken 
shelter.  "The  ship's  ready  and  all  laden  for  the 
sea  now,  sir  knight,  with  the  tide  flowing  strong. 
I  swear  to  you  the  master's  boat's  a-riding  at 
the  dock-side  now  .  .  .  but  he  be  right  bravely 
liquored  up,  quoth  'a,  and  no  one  dare  go  a-nigh 
'im  to  tell  it.  'Tis  a  damned  bad  thing  .  .  .  the 
sack  .  .  .  but,  begging  your  pardon,  sir  knight, 

407 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

an  this  shilling  be  good  siller,  I  bethink  me  I'll 
buy  me  a  swig  or  two." 

"Of  what  name  may  your  ship  be?"  queried 
Sir  Richard. 

"She'll  be  the  'Trinity,'  sir  knight,"  said  he, 
"and  the  bonniest  hulk  that  ever  cut  water  down 
the  Firth." 

"See  you  here,  my  man,"  said  the  young 
knight,  as  he  was  starting  for  a  tap-room  upon 
the  opposite  side  of  the  street.  "Are  you  want- 
ing to  line  your  pocket  with  a  rose  noble  or  two?" 

"With  nothing  but  this  bit  shilling  .  .  .  and 
the  town  fair  flooded  with  rum?  God  wot,  and 
I  am  not!"  said  he. 

"Then  do  you  keep  stand  here,"  said  Sir  Rich- 
ard; and,  hurrying  to  the  tavern  door,  he  bade 
Harold  and  Rocelia  to  join  him  outside. 

"Now,  hark  ye  well,"  resumed  Sir  Richard,  to 
the  waiting  sailor.  "Lead  this  lady  and  my 
squire  to  the  dock  there,  bestow  them  safely 
within  the  captain's  boat,  and  wait  you  there  till 
I  come  .  .  .  here,"  he  added,  handing  him  the 
promised  coin.  "There'll  be  another,  an  you  do 
this  thing  to  my  taste." 

"I'm  a-thinking  as  what  you  don't  know  my 
408 


A  FLEDGLING  FROM  THE  NEST 

master,  sir  knight,"  observed  the  sailor,  gazing 
hard  at  the  tavern  door. 

"No.  But  I  will  in  another  moment,"  said  the 
young  knight,  going  for  the  door. 

"Captain  of  the  'Trinity,'  "  he  shouted  when 
he  had  swung  it  wide. 

"The  very  devil  and  all!  and  what's  this, 
prithee?"  the  drunken  captain  shouted,  rolling 
heavily  down  upon  Sir  Richard  and  quite  filling 
the  open  space. 

In  a  very  few  words  the  young  knight  told 
him  just  what  he  wanted,  making  offer  of  all 
his  remaining  nobles,  saving  one,  if  he  would 
consent  to  bear  them  all  safely  into  France. 

"Six,  sayst  thou?  Any  women?"  the  seaman 
asked. 

"Two,"  Sir  Richard  replied. 

"Then  .  .  .  damn  thy  nobles!"  he  bellowed, 
slamming  the  door  in  the  young  knight's  very 
face. 

"But  I  tell  you  that  you  must  do  this  thing," 
Sir  Richard  persisted,  again  setting  open  the 
door. 

"What!  hell,  man!"  he  shouted,  turning  purple 
in  the  face. 

409 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

"I  say  you  must." 

"I'll  pitch  thee  headfirst  out,  an  thou  sayst  that 
again!"  the  captain  bawled. 

"I  repeat,  sir  captain,  that  we  must  take  thy 
ship,"  said  Sir  Richard.  "Moreover,  I  tell  thee 
to  thy  teeth  thou  canst  not  pitch  me  out." 

"I'll  wager  a  noble,"  he  returned,  peeling  him 
off  his  cloak  and  great- jacket. 

"An  I  put  thee  out,"  said  Sir  Richard,  "wilt 
thou  take  six  on  ship  and  fifty  nobles  in  hand?" 

"An  thou  goest  out  .  .  .  what  then?"  said  he. 

"Ten  golden  discs  for  thy  trouble,"  the  young 
knight  made  laughing  rejoinder. 

"Done,"  said  the  captain. 

Sir  Richard  did  not  much  like  the  curious  crowd 
gathering  closely  around  them,  but  he  knew  well 
that  he  must  accept  the  hazard.  It  was  the  only 
way  to  win  to  the  ship. 

Well,  they  went  at  it  then,  and  how  the  chairs 
and  tables  standing  near  did  tumble,  roll  and 
clatter  about  their  flying  heels!  The  captain 
was  of  a  similar  size  and  build  with  Bull  Bengoff , 
and  it  was  somewhat  like  tugging  at  an  enormous 
animated  hogshead  to  get  him  moving  withal. 
But  Sir  Richard  got  him  started  rolling  toward 

410 


A  FLEDGLING  FROM  THE  NEST 

the  door  presently,  and  then,  with  one  mighty 
heave,  he  sent  him  tumbling  over  and  over  down 
the  stone  steps. 

"What  saidst  thou  was  thy  name,  sir  knight?" 
the  captain  asked,  sitting  prone  upon  the  pav- 
ing stones  and  rubbing  the  top  of  his  pate. 
There  went  a  loud  laugh  around  at  his  earnest 
manner  of  asking  the  question. 

Walking  down  the  steps,  Sir  Richard  stooped, 
whispering  it  close  to  his  ear. 

''God's  mercy  upon  me!"  he  shouted,  getting 
as  quickly  as  might  be  to  his  feet  and  winding  his 
great  arms  about  the  young  knight's  neck.  Sir 
Richard  at  once  set  again  to  tugging,  bethinking 
him  that  they  were  again  to  have  at  it. 

"No,  no!"  shouted  the  captain,  laughing, 
"I've  had  my  belly  full  of  that-  God!  dost 
thou  not  know,  man?  That  ship  in  the  offing 
yonder  doth  belong  to  him  whose  wealth  and 
titles  were  left  all  to  thee  .  .  .  are  even  now 
thine.  Right  glad  will  old  Duke  Francis  be  to 
have  me  fetch  thee  back.  Thou  art  of  age  now, 
and  can  claim  thy  inheritance." 

"My  benefactor  .  .  .  who  is  he?"  asked  the 
young  knight  in  an  amazed  whisper. 

411 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

"Who  is  he?  Why,  he's  dead,  Sir  Richard, 
these  nineteen  years  .  .  .  'twas  the  man  after 
whom  thou  wert  named — Richard  Neville,  Earl 
of  Warwick  .  .  .  often  styled  'king-maker.' 
But  come!  come  inside,"  he  cried,  taking  the 
young  knight's  arm;  "we'll  have  a  bowl  or  two 
of  sack  and  a  right  juicy  pasty  together,  Sir 
Richard.  Let  the  damned  ship  wait !" 

"But,  listen,"  Sir  Richard  whispered,  "I'm  in 
the  direst  peril.  'T would  be  well  an  thou  couldst 
get  me  on  boarc  thy  ship  at  once." 

Just  at  that  moment  they  saw  de  Claverlok, 
Isabel,  and  Thomas  ride  upon  the  King's  Dock 
out  of  a  side  street.  Looking  away  from  the 
river,  Sir  Richard  saw  a  band  of  horses,  with 
Douglas  at  their  head,  coming  above  the  hill  at 
a  breakneck  speed. 

"Come!"  the  young  knight  shouted,  clutching 
the  good  captain's  arm;  "do  not  tarry  for  thy 
cap — there's  not  one  tick  of  the  clock  to  spare." 

Which  indeed  there  was  not,  for  they  had  but 
just  tumbled  into  the  boat  and  drew  clear  of  the 
quay  when  Douglas  and  his  horsemen  rode  furi- 
ously upon  it. 

"Come  hither,  Sir  Richard  .  .  .  sire  I"  Lord 
412 


A  FLEDGLING  FROM  THE  NEST 

Douglas  called.  "Prithee,  do  return.  I  have 
here  the  messages  to  show  thee.  The  messages 
thou  didst  bring  me  from  Henry.  All  signed, 
thou  dost  remember,  by  thy  good  self  and  my 
councilmen.  Come  back!  but  a  moment's  speech 
would  I  have  of  thee  .  .  .  sire." 

"I  wish  thee  well  of  thy  enterprises,  Lord 
Douglas,"  the  young  knight  shouted  back. 
"Make  kings  an  thou  wilt,  I'll  have  none  of  it. 
Thou  canst  give  me  nothing.  ...  I  have  be- 
side me  here,  my  lord,  the  best  that  Scotland  has 
to  give." 

Then,  he  remembered  afterward,  Rocelia  took 
his  hand,  standing  beside  him  in  the  captain's 
boat,  and  together  they  waved  the  great  Douglas 
a  last  farewell. 

When  they  had  climbed  to  the  topmost  deck  of 
the  great  ship  they  saw  another  cavalcade  of 
armed  men  riding  down  to  the  river  front  from 
out  another  street.  Sir  Richard  noted  above  their 
plumed  helmets  a  bedraggled  banner,  bearing  a 
device  sable  upon  a  field  gules. 

"They  are  your  father's  men,  Rocelia,"  Sir 
Richard  said,  gathering  her  close  to  his  side. 

"Yes,  Dick,"  said  she.  "God  keep  him  from 
413 


THE    RED    TAVERN 

all  harm  and  bring  him  safe  to  us  some  future 
day." 

Soon,  then,  with  great  brown  sails  bellying  in 
the  wind,  they  dropped  down  the  Firth  of  Clyde, 
with  the  twinkling  lights  of  Glasgow  fading  dim 
in  the  distance. 

(0 


THE    END 


